


Sing to me Instead

by heartsmadeofbooks



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Canonical Character Death - Finn Hudson, Drama, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Roommates, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 77,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsmadeofbooks/pseuds/heartsmadeofbooks
Summary: When Sam and Mercedes decide to move in together, their roommates have to sort out other living arrangements. Blaine and Kurt click together right from the start - will this be the beginning of a new friendship? Or will they find so much more than they ever thought they would?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Eli.C, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel/Adam Crawford, Sam Evans/Mercedes Jones, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 608
Kudos: 222





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a new fic!  
> I'm very happy to share this one with you all. After Flowers in the Window, I wanted to write something a bit lighter, and this was the result. I realized that after many years in this fandom, there are still so many popular tropes that I haven't yet written, and I thought I should start trying my hand at each of them – or the ones I'm interested in, at least.  
> The title for this fic comes from the incredible album by Ben Platt. I listened to it non-stop this year, mostly while writing FITW, and I knew I needed to write something based on it. Each chapter will feature lyrics from songs in the album, which have influenced the chapter or the plot in some way. In this first one, the lyrics are from the song Share Your Address.  
> As always I need to thank my wonderful beta, Christine, for her work on this fic and her patience and support.  
> I hope you'll enjoy!

__

_I know, I know it's too soon, too fast_ _  
_ _But this could last_ _  
_ _I wanna share your address._

* * *

His first home had been in Lima, Ohio.

In a way, Kurt Hummel guessed it would always be his home, at least for as long as his father lived there. It was weird, to still think of Lima as home, considering how hard he had worked to get the hell away from there, away from homophobic douchbags, from close-minded neighbors, from a life that had always felt half-lived. Kurt had spent most of his teenage years dreaming of a city made of buildings tall enough to shield him, but large enough to finally, _finally_ be free.

If it weren't for his dad, he wasn't sure he would ever go back. But Kurt still went home – _home_ , when will it stop being home? – regularly, for Christmas and birthdays and every holiday he could. For someone who had been desperate enough to never step on Ohio soil again, he sure made it a priority to return as often as he could. But for his father, Kurt was willing to go to the end of the earth, and he was there, always waiting with his arms open for Kurt to come back, along with his step-mother. Family was important, and a piece of his heart always stayed with them when he had to leave them, so he guessed that Ohio would have a piece of Kurt Hummel hopefully for many, many more years.

His second home had been in Bushwick, New York.

It had been such a contrast to the small town life he had been used to, where life seemed to stop after eight in the evening. In Bushwick, Kurt could hear traffic, police car sirens and music even at three in the morning, or he could walk down the block to get ice cream at the store in the middle of the night – something that wasn't exactly wise, considering it wasn't the safest neighborhood, but the large, albeit quite run down loft, had been all eighteen-year-old Kurt and his best friend Rachel Berry had been able to afford when they first got to the city. And it had been enough, and it had been home, because it was where their dreams finally stretched their wings and attempted to fly.

They had arrived in New York with dreams of stardom. Rachel had been accepted into NYADA and Kurt had followed her despite having received a rejection letter to the same school. But he had been determined to make something of himself, to reach his goals even if the doors kept shutting in his face over and over again. He had gotten an internship – at Vogue, no less – and then reapplied to NYADA for the next term. This time, he had got in. And he never looked back.

At some point while the two of them were busy with school and work and this new life that they couldn't believe was theirs, Santana Lopez had invited herself to move in with them. She had gone to high school with them and one day simply showed up on their doorstep and announced she was staying with them, indeterminately. Kurt and Rachel had simply stared at each other, knowing there was no way to talk her out of it.

Rachel and Santana didn't always get along, which meant Kurt got caught up in their fights more often than not. Around that time, Kurt had also started working at a restaurant as a waiter, and the commute back to Bushwick so late at night became the thing he hated the most about New York.

That's when Mercedes Jones came to the rescue.

Another friend from high school – and it sometimes seemed like most of Kurt's class at McKinley High School was suddenly moving to New York – Mercedes had arrived in Manhattan after getting signed in a recording company. This wasn't only amazing because Mercedes was one of the most talented people Kurt had ever met, which was saying a lot, but also because it came with all kinds of perks, like a small but gorgeous town house in the Upper East Side, a neighborhood Kurt hadn't dreamed of living in until he was at least thirty and considerably more successful.

“Kurt, I've got a spare room,” she had said to him, when they got together for coffee one afternoon and Kurt kept going on and on about how much he hated the late commute, and how exhausting it was to get home late at night only to find Rachel and Santana having screaming matches over whatever they had disagreed on that day. “Why don't you move in with me?”

Kurt hadn't even needed to think about it. He was standing up and going around the table to hug her, saying yes over and over again.

So Kurt's third home was in the Upper East Side.

This was probably the only part of his life he truly loved at the moment. Getting to come home to this beautiful town house feels like a gift – especially since he's pretty disappointed in most of the other areas of his life. He still worked at the restaurant, and two years after graduating NYADA, he thought he would be somewhere else. He thought he would have gotten a steady job performing by now. It was frustrating how people in this town – just like in his hometown – still refused to recognize and appreciate his talent.

But Kurt had never been one for giving up.

On a rather rare night off, Kurt was sitting on the couch with his laptop, checking the audition calls for the following week. He scrolls bitterly past most of them, roles he wouldn't get in a million years with his pale complexion and countertenor voice. He had always known it would be difficult to find a leading man part that would fit what he had to offer, but somehow he had remained positive – Broadway was diverse. He would find something that fit him like a glove.

He clicked and unclicked the pen he was holding as he read more and more descriptions of characters that had nothing to do with him.

Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep at night and stared in frustration at the ceiling, Kurt wondered if he hadn't made a mistake giving up that internship at Vogue when he got into NYADA. Maybe he should have stuck with it. Maybe he should have seen what opportunities it would offer him in the future. Maybe he had thrown away a shot at having a career by being too stubborn to give up his dream of performing on a Broadway stage.

Maybe not even Broadway had a place for him.

Just as he was spiralling further and further into despair, the front door opened and Mercedes came into the house, shrugging her coat off her shoulders. Kurt looked over the back of the couch and waved at her absentmindedly.

“Hey Kurt!” She said with a bright smile. She was a beautiful black woman who, thanks to Kurt's little nudging, had finally embraced an amazing style. The navy blue dress she was wearing at the moment made her look radiant.

“How was your date?” He asked, as his blue eyes flickered back to his computer screen.

Mercedes had been dating the same boy for over a year now. Sam Evans was hot – there was no denying that – blond and a bit of a nerd, and completely the opposite of the guy Kurt had pictured Mercedes with, but oddly, they seemed to work. He treated her like the queen she was and was always encouraging and respectful. Even the way they had met had been endearing – Mercedes had been walking through the park and he stopped her only to tell her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and to wish her a good day. Mercedes had stared after him as he walked away, half stunned and half amused, and then called him back, only to ask him in the best, most sassy way she knew how if he didn't want to get her number.

They had been pretty inseparable since then.

Mercedes held a finger in sole reply, which meant there was a lot to tell, and walked into the kitchen. Kurt finished writing down information about a few more auditions, before he closed his laptop and pushed it aside as she came back into the living room with two steamy mugs of tea.

She kicked her heels off and took a seat next to Kurt on the couch. “He took me to that new restaurant that opened a few weeks ago and everyone's been talking about.”

“Oh!” Kurt sat up, interest piqued. “They say it's impossible to get a reservation. What did you think?”

“Well, the food's delicious, and the place is lovely, so I guess I understand why they're making such a fuss,” Mercedes replied. She took a sip of her tea. “Anyway, we were sharing a piece of chocolate cake for dessert and...”

The way she paused, looking bashful and excited, made Kurt sit up straighter.

“Oh my god, did he propose?” He shrieked and immediately reached for her hand, only to find no ring there.

“No,” Mercedes bit her lower lip, her eyes sparkling. “But he did ask me if I wanted to move in together.”

Kurt put his cup down on the coffee table, before doing the same with Mercedes', so he could hug her without spilling any tea on her lovely white couch. “That's wonderful!” He exclaimed, squeezing her tight. Then he pulled away slightly, his eyes going a little wide. “Wait, you said yes, didn't you?”

Mercedes laughed. “Of course I said yes!”

They hugged and squealed for a while. Kurt didn't know anyone who deserved happiness the way Mercedes did, and he celebrated every single one of her victories as if they were his own.

She finally pulled away, her grin so bright it was almost blinding. “Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am that you are happy for me...”

Kurt looked at her like she was insane. “Why wouldn't I be happy for you?” He asked, and then it dawned on him. “Oh, you guys want to move in here.”

“Yes,” Mercedes said, once again biting her lip, regretfully. “I'm sorry. I know we'll still have that extra room, but we're really excited about living as a couple and...”

“God, no, it's fine,” Kurt immediately interrupted, waving her concerns away. “It's okay, really. Understandable. It would be weird if I was here, a total third wheel when you'll probably want to enjoy your time together.”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated. “I know how much you like living here.”

“Honey, this is _your_ apartment,” Kurt retorted. “Please don't apologize. You've been so nice letting me live here. You've bought me almost a year away from Rachel's and Santana's craziness.” He leaned back against the couch, thoughtful. “I hope they'll have room for me now that Brittany moved in with them...”

“Why would you go back to Bushwick?” Mercedes asked him, as if he had lost his mind. “You hated it there.”

“We both know I can't afford a place in Manhattan by myself,” Kurt said. Not on his waiter salary, not while he was still paying off his school debt. His dad was already helping him more than Kurt wanted him to. There was no way he would ask for more. “I could try and find someone here who needs a roommate, but you know I'm not exactly eager to share a space with a stranger.”

Mercedes took a deep breath. “I actually might have a solution for you, if everything lines up.”

Kurt arched an eyebrow at her, definitely intrigued.

He wondered where home number four would be.

* * *

Blaine Anderson had never felt at home anywhere.

The house he had shared with his parents and brother back in Westerville, Ohio had been stifling. He had never felt comfortable, even if he knew he was safe. He loved his mother and he loved his brother, but his father had been difficult. Every time William Anderson was home, Blaine sat up straighter, his shoulders tense, and made sure he didn't say a word out of place. Still, his father always found something worth critizicing. No matter how many good grades Blaine got, how good he was at sports, how talented he was, nothing was ever enough for his father, and he didn't hesitate in letting Blaine know exactly how flawed, how imperfect he was.

His last years of high school had been spent in a boarding school, and how pathetic was it that Dalton Academy had felt more like a home than the house he had grown up in? But still, every night he went to bed and dreamed of going away, of building something that mattered, of being free and happy. He dreamed of seeing a pleased smile on his father's face when he looked at him.

It never happened.

When he finally graduated high school and got into NYU, he moved into an apartment in Manhattan that didn't feel like a home either. There wasn't anything wrong with it – it was a great place, spacious considering most of the apartments in this town, and rather elegant. It had enough room for his piano and it was walking distance to Central Park and all the places in New York he had always seen in movies and dreamed of visiting too. But it had been paid in full by his father, the only kindness he had shown him when Blaine moved out of his childhood house.

“Blaine, there's nothing wrong with him having paid for it,” his mother reminded him. “If it's the only good thing he's ever going to do for you, accept it. He hasn't been a perfect father, we both know that. He should have taken better care of you. This is the only way he knows how to take care of you. Let him. It's certainly the least he could do.”

Blaine didn't understand. He didn't want a fancy apartment in one of the most expensive cities in the country as a prove of his father's caring. He wanted his dad to be like any normal dad – he wanted a hug or a pat on the back. He wanted him to be proud of his son and how far he had come despite all the obstacles life had put in his way.

He wanted him to look him in the eyes – and for once, Blaine didn't want to find shame looking back at him.

It shouldn't have been too much to ask, for a father to love his son unconditionally.

“Dad has issues with intimacy,” his brother, Cooper, had told him once. He had played a therapist in a commercial and now thought he was actually qualified to deal with people's problems. “He's always been distant. He didn't hug me much, either, when I was a kid. He would usually give me a ten dollar bill and tell me to go have fun with my friends. That was his way of showing he cared.”

Blaine remembered his father doing that, too. Until he was about fourteen years old, his father had treated him the same way he had always treated Cooper.

But then Blaine had come out, and everything had changed, the distances had grown wider, and the silences had grown longer.

It's not like William had ever said it was wrong to be gay, or had abused or neglected Blaine in any way. But Blaine had always felt like he was merely tolerated when he was in his house. Not loved, not accepted. Tolerated.

You can't build a home on tolerance alone.

He didn't want to sound ungrateful – he was glad to have a roof over his head, to not have to worry about paying rent like most of his friends and classmates. He still worked, of course, teaching private piano lessons to kids and teenagers, and he played a steady gig at a café every Friday, all while doing grad school. That was all mostly for grocery money, for spending money. He wanted to deserve every good thing that came his way. He wanted to one day stand in front of his father and look back at him like an equal.

That day hadn't yet arrived. He still felt like a little kid whenever he saw him, which, to be honest, wasn't very often. Not since his mother had asked for a divorce, at least.

Blaine was glad to be away from all the drama, in New York, even if he felt like he wasn't home as long as his father was paying for him to be here.

It helped that Blaine got to share this apartment with his best friend. When he arrived at the end of a particularly long day, feeling jaded and frustrated, and he saw Sam lying on the couch with a box of pizza and playing video games, it always cheered him up.

Sam was a great friend. They had bumped into each other during Blaine's first year in New York, at a Star Wars convention. Sam had been dressed as Darth Vader and Blaine as Luke Skywalker, and when Sam spotted him coming towards him amongst the crowd, he had pointed at him and yelled “I am your Father!” until every single person in the hall was turning towards them and taking pictures of the pretend family-reunion. They had been a hit with the public, so they decided to stick together for the rest of the day, and later on, while sitting on the floor to take a break, Sam with his Vader helmet balancing on his lap, sharing chips and a Diet Coke, they had realized they had so much more in common than George Lucas' masterpiece.

Blaine could tell, after that first day, that he had made a friend that would last a lifetime.

As usual, Blaine was sitting at the piano, trying out melodies and lyrics and writing them down, always composing, always chasing the songs that came up in his head before they disappeared, when the front door opened and Sam came back from his date with Mercedes. He didn't say anything when he saw Blaine at the piano – knew well enough by now that by talking to him he could make him forget a lyric or a note – and instead went into the kitchen and came back with two cans of beers.

He sat on the armchair close to the piano and, when Blaine finally looked up from the keys, he passed one of the beers at him.

“Working on a new song?” He asked.

Sometimes Blaine envied the way Sam carried himself, looking confident in his skin, always so friendly, so open, so quick to make friends. He was attractive – not for anything; he was currently working as a model – with his blonde hair and his big, luscious lips. After being his best friend for so long, Blaine now knew that it hadn't come to him easily, that he had struggled to be happy, to accept himself how he was. But Sam Evans smiled and the world fell at his feet.

Okay, so Blaine had had a little crush on him upon meeting him. It hadn't lasted long, though. Longing for a straight boy to love you back never ended well, and Blaine cared too much about their friendship to jeopardize that.

Sam still liked to tease him about it, though. Blaine wasn't sure he would ever let him forget about it. But at least they both could laugh about the whole thing, and it had stopped being so awkward.

Blaine opened his beer and took a sip. “There's always a new song.”

“Let me know when it's finished. I want to hear it,” Sam said. He was nothing if not the most supportive person Blaine had ever met. After growing up in the Anderson household, it was weird to him just how supportive Sam could be. “So, Mercedes and I had a really nice date.”

Blaine turned on the bench to face him. Sam wasn't one to share much after a date, so if he was bringing it up, it had to be important. “Yeah?” He prompted.

“Yeah. And you know, we've been dating for a year now, and it's going really well,” Sam explained, running a hand down the back of his neck. “I've never loved another girl the way I love her, and I've been with a lot of girls.”

“I know,” Blaine said, trying to hold back his laughter.

“ _A lot_ ,” Sam repeated, and... was he nervous? Sam was rarely nervous. It was endearing, really. “But she's special. I think she might be the one, really.”

“Sam, that's great,” Blaine replied, leaning in to squeeze his knee. “You know I think Mercedes is fantastic. She's really good for you, too.”

Sam smiled. “Well, I asked her if she wanted to live together.”

Blaine almost spit his beer. “Oh my god, what did she say?”

“She said she would love to,” Sam said, throwing his arms over his head as if he were celebrating his football team scoring an epic goal. “Can you believe it?”

“Dude, that's great,” Blaine said sincerely.

“I'm sorry, I should have probably talked to you about it before I asked her. But I was afraid she would say no,” Sam explained. “We've had a great run as roommates, and it makes me sad to leave.”

Blaine shook his head. “Don't be sorry, you fool. You're moving in with the girl of your dreams. I'll be fine.” He got up and pulled on Sam's arm to get him on his feet too. He wrapped him in a hug and patted his back. “I just hope you don't forget to come hang out with me now that you'll be living with her.”

“Never,” Sam promised, patting his back in return. He placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder and pulled away slightly. “You sure you'll be alright? I know you don't like living alone all that much.”

“Of course I'll be fine. I'll have to find a new roommate, though it's a pain going through the interviews and all of that, but...” He shrugged. He would figure it out later. “Don't you worry about a thing. I'll figure it out.”

“Well, Mercedes did have a suggestion, though she still needed to talk things through on her end,” Sam said, and Blaine looked at him curiously. “You know she lives with Kurt. He'll have to move out of her place when I move in, so he also needs a place to stay.”

Blaine remembered Kurt, mostly from birthdays and parties. At first he had thought he was one of Sam's friends from the model agency – he was seriously _that_ attractive – until he learned he was actually one of Mercedes' friends from high school, along with the loud petite girl who was always hogging the karaoke machine and the scary Latina who had asked him if he had stepped out from a time machine straight from the 1950s ( _hey_ , bowties and suspenders were cool in any time period, okay?). He hadn't talked much with Kurt, though, but he had always seemed nice and polite, and from the few things Mercedes had mentioned about living with him, he was the perfect roommate.

It didn't sound like a bad idea at all.

“You know, that would be super helpful,” he said to Sam. “I'd rather live with him than with a total stranger. Do you think he'd be interested?”

Sam pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. “Only one way to know,” he replied, as he texted his girlfriend.

Blaine sat back down at the piano and took a sip of his beer as he played a random melody.

He hoped Kurt liked music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to know your thoughts on this first chapter.  
> This fic is completely written and will update every Wednesday and Saturday.  
> So I'll be seeing you on Saturday!  
> Love,  
> L.-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!  
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments about the first chapter. I'm glad you're enjoying this story already! It was so much fun writing it.  
> Shoutout to Christine for her help on this and every single chapter of every single thing I write! She's amazing.  
> The lyrics for this second chapter also belong to Share Your Address, like in the first one. We'll switch it up a bit in the next chapter!  
> Enjoy!

_And it's so easy to forget_

_That we have barely even met_

_But I want no one else (_ _I_ _want no one else)._

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Kurt sat in a room full of Ryan Gosling's lookalikes, nursing a cup of coffee and trying not to feel incredibly depressed. Most of the guys around him were throwing not-so-subtle looks in his direction, as if wondering what the hell he was doing there. Sometimes, Kurt asked himself the same question.

The casting director's assitant opened the door, clipboard in hand. Every single man in the waiting room sat up, back straight, eager eyes on her. She checked the clipboard quickly and called: “Lucas Davidson?”

One of the many Ryan Goslings stood up and, with a smile so wide he displayed every single one of his extremely white teeth, walked towards her and offered his hand for a manly, firm handshake. Kurt could see the woman swooning as she looked up into his eyes and accepted his hand.

Trying not to groan and ignoring the voice in the back of his head that kept telling him this was a monumental waste of time, Kurt looked down at the script in his hand, making sure he had his dialogue memorized.

This role was completely out of his league and he knew it. He didn't match the character's description, which was why he felt like a fish out of the water sitting amongst all these other guys who looked terrifyingly and annoyingly the same. For most of his life, Kurt has stuck out like a sore thumb. He was used to it, had used it to his advantage and taken pride in all the ways in which he was different, special. But sometimes, only sometimes, he wished he could just blend in. It would have made his life so much easier.

It felt like he was back in his senior year of high school, auditioning for West Side Story, thinking finally, finally he would get to be in the spotlight, because most of the others guys in Glee Club weren't as interested as he was in being Tony. Finn hadn't even auditioned, Artie was the director, Mike had especifically auditioned for Riff. He was the only one who wanted it, and yet, when he poured his heart and soul into it, everyone had laughed at him, found him lacking. They had given the role to one of the football guys instead, someone who didn't even want it, who only agreed to be in the play because Coach Beiste was forcing the whole team to take part.

He couldn't even get the lead in a stupid high school musical, what made him think he could get it on a Broadway stage?

He took a sip of coffee to steady his nerves a little bit. He couldn't sabbotage himself like this – he had faith in his own talent. One day someone else would recognize it and appreciate it, too.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he was starting to mouth the words of his monologue. With a little sigh, he put his cup of coffee down so he could reach for it. There was a text message from an unknown number in it.

 **From Unknown:** _Hi Kurt! This is Blaine. Mercedes gave me your number. I was wondering if you'd like to stop by the apartment for coffee this week, so we can talk!_

Kurt leaned his head back against the wall as he tried to visualize what the schedule for the rest of his week was like. He still had a couple more auditions to attend – unless today's went shockingly well, which he was starting to doubt – but otherwise he was free as a bird. Too free for his own liking.

He saved Blaine's numbers in his contacts and then hit reply.

 **To Blaine:** _Hi, Blaine! That sounds great. Does Friday afternoon sound good for you? I could be there around three._

The door opened and Lucas Davidson stepped out of his audition looking pleased with the results. The casting director's assistant checked her clipboard one more time and called for the next person on the list.

“Kurt Hummel!”

Kurt took a deep breath and stood up, gathering his things and following her with the best smile he had to offer. There was a long table and three people sitting behind it when he entered, who looked up at him and frowned. Not a good sign.

“Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel and I'll be auditioning for the role of James,” he said, with as much confidence as he could muster.

They signaled for him to get started, so Kurt steadied himself before he began to sing the piece he had selected for this audition – _Being Alive_ from Company, a song that had to have been written especifically for him. And yet, just as he was gearing up to reach the best part of the song and blow everyone away, the casting director interrupted him.

“Thank you, Kurt. That'll be all.”

Kurt faltered and tried not to show his annoyance at being cut off right when it was getting good. “Should I read my lines now?”

“No, thank you,” the director said as politely as he could, no interest in his eyes. “We just don't think we have a place for you in this production.”

Kurt focused on turning his face into a mask that covered his disappointment and his hurt. He nodded and thanked them for their time, turning to leave, embarrassed that his audition had lasted less than a minute, when most of the other guys had been inside for at least ten.

He wondered if someone, somewhere would ever have a place for him.

* * *

On Friday, a few minutes before three, Kurt stood before Blaine's building and looked up. It was nice, even if it was not Mercedes elegant and gorgeous town house. He had never been inside before, though he had picked up Mercedes here for brunch once. It was still the Upper East Side, which Kurt appreciated, although he was a little scared the rent would be too steep for him. Just in case, he had already called Rachel and Santana, and they both had offered to make room for him back at the loft, if necessary. But he wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

Blaine buzzed him in and Kurt took the elevator up to the fourth floor. This was so much nicer than the loft already. It didn't look like the walls were going to crack and fall onto his head, at least. It was also quite pleasing not to have to go up so many flights of stairs carrying groceries.

God, it had been a hell of a week. Kurt really needed this apartment thing to work out.

Blaine had the front door opened and was leaning out into the hallway, waiting for him. He smiled and waved at Kurt, as if he couldn't miss him in the otherwise empty hallway. Blaine had a gorgeous smile – it was the first thing he had ever noticed about him, really. That and his adorable love for bowties.

He guessed Blaine Anderson was the kind of guy you couldn't help but want to gravitate towards. From the few times Kurt had met him, he could tell that he was easy-going and nice, always polite and respectful. He had to be a bit dorky to get along with Sam so well, but there was nothing wrong with that. It didn't hurt that he truly was drop-dead stunning, with his long eyelashes and eager amber eyes, but Kurt had never made an effort to talk to him and get to know him better because a) he didn't think they would have very much in common, b) Kurt usually didn't get along with other boys all that well which was why most of his friends were girls, and c) Kurt had a boyfriend.

He hadn't seen Adam in over six months, but that wasn't the point.

“Hey Kurt!” Blaine exclaimed, and Kurt had forgotten what a pleasant voice he had. He vaguely remembered him singing at karaoke one night – his voice had been like honey. “Did you have any trouble finding the building?”

“Not at all,” Kurt said, smiling back at him, as he walked towards the apartment. “Your directions were very clear, and I'm quite familiar with the neighborhood.”

“Well, come on right in. Make yourself at home,” Blaine replied, opening the door a little wider to let him in. “I'm going to make some coffee and then we can talk and I'll give you a little tour?”

Kurt followed him inside and closed the door. “Sure, that sounds great!”

“How do you take your coffee?” Blaine asked, as he walked into the kitchen, that was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar.

Kurt headed in the same direction, not able to stop himself from taking a look around. The apartment looked comfortable and nice, a lot bigger than he had expected, with enough room to house a piano near the window. “Oh, a bit of skim milk, if you have any? If not, just black is fine.” He stopped at the breakfast bar and took a peek at the kitchen – it was big enough for two people to move around without bumping into each other, with stainless steel appliances and lovely cabinets painted in a sort of petroleum blue that was very chic. “Blaine, this kitchen is _gorgeous_ ,” he commented, unable to stop himself.

“Oh, I know, it's one of my favorite things about this apartment,” Blaine said as he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. “I love the color.”

“Me too,” Kurt nodded. Blaine gestured for him to take a seat at the breakfast bar, so Kurt pulled a stool out and sat down. “I like that it carries out into the living room, too. Most people think that because they're two different rooms, they don't have to have a flow between them...”

Blaine chuckled and reached into the cupboard for two cups. “I wish I could say it was a conscious decision, but it wasn't. The kitchen was like this when I moved in, I only bought the living room furniture. I like blue, it's a nice color. I think it was a coincidence.”

Kurt hummed and accepted the cup Blaine was offering. “Thank you. Well, still, great job.”

Blaine poured himself a cup. “Thanks. It's nice that you notice those things. I could have flipped the entire furniture upside down and painted it hot pink and Sam wouldn't have noticed.”

“Well, I have an eye for design, so...” Kurt muttered, before taking a sip of his coffee. It was perfect, almost as if Blaine had known exactly how he liked it. “Isn't it weird our best friends have been together for over a year and we haven't hang out much? I mean, I barely know you.”

“I know!” Blaine said, leaning against the bar, grinning. “So, Kurt. Let's fix that. Tell me more about you.”

“Well, I'm from Ohio. I moved here with my friend Rachel – remember her? Short, obnoxiously loud? – for college. I graduated from NYADA a couple of years ago...” Kurt began, only to get interrupted by Blaine.

“That's impressive. Don't they take like, thirty students per year?” He asked, and the way he hooked his chin on his hand to look at him, like there wasn't anything more fascinating in the whole wide world than what Kurt was telling him was oddly endearing.

“Yeah, twenty,” Kurt corrected, and rolled his eyes. “Which is why I didn't get in the first time I applied. But I did get in the second time, so I guess that's still okay.”

“More than okay,” Blaine said eagerly. “You must be good.”

Kurt shrugged modestly. “I guess. I haven't gotten a single part since I graduated, though, so I guess talent isn't everything.” He pulled through, not wanting to get into the depressing process of putting himself through audition after audition, not after the ones he had gone to that week. He was still licking his wounds. “In the meantime, I'm working as a waiter at a restaurant to pay the bills. It's not as glamourous, but...”

“You'll get there,” Blaine reassured him with a quick smile. “I mean, you're still young, there's plenty of time to get your big break. I'm still waiting for my own.”

“What do you do?” Kurt asked, happy to shove the spotlight onto someone else for a little while.

“Well, I like music,” he nodded towards the piano near the window, as if it explained everything. “I majored in music at NYU and I'm doing grad school now. I like composing and writing music, mostly – any kind of music, really. I love pop music but I would be just as happy writing the score for a movie or a musical...”

“Then why grad school?” Kurt asked.

“I figured I could have a back up plan, in case the music career doesn't take off,” Blaine answered, after taking a sip of coffee. “I mean, I wouldn't mind teaching. That was always a second choice for me. But you know, I want to have options.”

“That was smart of you,” Kurt muttered.

He should have worried about options when there was still time, too.

“I guess. I'm always been practical like that,” Blaine said, self-deprecatingly, and Kurt looked at him with curiosity, but Blaine decided to change the subject. “I teach private piano lessons, so I would have students here from time to time. I hope that's not an inconvenience?”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Kurt said immediately. “Sam didn't mention that. It's cool. I don't think I would be patient enough to teach anyone anything. Do you teach adults?”

“Yeah, sometimes. But it's mostly kids and teenagers,” Blaine replied, and then laughed at Kurt's slightly horrified look. “They're not as bad as one would imagine, trust me. Most of them have natural talent.”

“What about the ones without any natural talent?” Kurt asked, eyebrow arched.

“I'll make sure to schedule them when you're not in the apartment,” Blaine teased, and they both laughed.

Kurt felt good. This was nice. Blaine was much more pleasant than he had anticipated. He was starting to really, really wish he could move in. “Okay, so... what do you look for in a potential roommate? I want to see if I'll have to bribe myself into this apartment with... let's say... homemade chocolate chip cookies?”

“Well, that would definitely put you on top of the list,” Blaine said, and he pulled away from the bar. He gestured for Kurt to follow him into the kitchen, so Kurt did. “I'm kidding. You're currently the whole list. I'd much rather live with someone who comes recommended by a friend than a total stranger.”

“Oh, I get that,” Kurt nodded. “My other options are find a stranger with an available room or go back to Bushwick with Rachel and Santana.”

“Santana? Is that the scary Latina?” Blaine said. “She made fun of my bowties.”

“She makes fun of _everything_ ,” Kurt retorted.

The kitchen was even nicer upon closer inspection. Kurt could really see himself working at the wooden counters, spending relaxing afternoons baking something that would fill the apartment with the smell of sugar and butter.

Blaine pointed at a whiteboard hanging next to the fridge. It looked like he and Sam had drawn a chart on it. “Well, I don't know how you and Mercedes do things, but Sam and I worked out a pretty awesome system for chores. We could work something similar out, or you can suggest whatever you like. He doesn't like cleaning the bathroom, so I do that three times a week in exchange for him doing dishes every day, for example.” He pulled open a few cabinets. “Most of the stuff in the apartment is mine, except for the furniture in Sam's bedroom, so you wouldn't have to bring much along, unless you really wanted to. You can use whatever. And we can split the groceries and the bills evenly.”

“That sounds fair,” Kurt admitted. It sounded more than fair, really. “So I'm guessing rent in this neighborhood is a little steep.”

“It is, but it's covered,” Blaine replied, and he must have seen the look of surprise on Kurt's face because he looked a bit uncomfortable. “My dad paid the rent in advance. I really don't need a roommate, but I don't like living alone. So, maybe we can settle on an amount that works for both of us?”

“That would be good, but I want it to be fair. It's not okay for your dad to take care of everything...” Kurt said, and he couldn't ignore the flash of darkness that crossed Blaine's eyes. It seemed to be a very, very sensitive topic.

“It'll be fair,” Blaine reassured him. He cleared his throat. “So. Would you like to see the rest of the apartment?”

“Sure, that would be great,” Kurt smiled at him.

Blaine first let him peruse the living room freely, explaining that Sam hadn't been very involved in the decorating, but that didn't mean Kurt couldn't get a say if he wanted to change or add anything. There was a comfy beige couch on top of a navy rug, a large television set and two tall bookcases filled to the brim with books and knicknacks. Behind the couch, there was a small square table with two chairs and then there was the large, beautiful piano that seemed to glow in the sunlight that came through the window.

“Do you play?” Blaine asked, as Kurt ran his finger gently over the keys.

“Oh, very little,” Kurt admitted. Memories of his mother guiding his small fingers over the keys flashed through his head.

“I can teach you. Or I can help you practice for your auditions,” Blaine offered gently.

Kurt smiled at him, still lost in his own head.

There was a short hallway with three doors – the first one led to a small but nice bathroom, complete with a decently sized bathtub. Blaine opened the second door to reveal his own bedroom, all in relatively dark and masculine colors, with a large bed in the middle and a window that overlooked the avenue below. There was a punching bag set up in a corner, which definitely surprised Kurt – Blaine didn't look like a boxer.

Then he showed him the last room, opening the door with a little smile: “Don't freak out, Sam's messy.”

If he looked past the clothes strewn over the floor and the unmade bed – god, Kurt was suddenly glad he didn't have to live with Sam and really hoped Mercedes knew what she was getting into – it was a really great room, almost as big as the one he had at the town house, and definitely better than the portion of the loft without walls he had first had when he and Rachel moved to New York. The window also had a lovely view of the city and the afternoon sun drifted gently into the room. The closet was large enough to hold all of his clothes, too, which was the last selling point he needed.

“Blaine, this is great,” Kurt commented.

“Despite Sam's mess?” Blaine said.

“Despite Sam's mess,” Kurt confirmed. He had been a little worried about having to live with another boy after living exclusively with girls for several years, but Blaine seemed to be neat and clean. Kurt let his eyes roam over Sam's room, and he suddenly was seeing another room, gym socks and football jerseys thrown carelessly on the floor and on chairs and on every single available surface.

What he wouldn't give to have to yell at Finn again about picking up his clothes. He missed his brother so much it felt like his chest was cracking open.

Blaine's hand was suddenly on his elbow, his hazel eyes fixed on him. “Hey. You look like you went away. Everything okay? Are you sure you like the room?”

Kurt found a smile for him, and shook the memories away for the time being. “Everything's fine. I love the room. I'll just have to air it out.”

Blaine chuckled, and if he was still worried, he hid it well. “So... when can you move in?”

“The question here is,” Kurt said, as they walked back into the living room, “when can Sam move out?”

Blaine's handsome face lit up with a smile.

* * *

Almost two weeks later, Blaine walked into Sam's room with two beers and dropped down on the floor next to his best friend. Sam paused, halfway through packing his dear collection of comic books, and accepted one of the beers.

“So this is it, huh?” Blaine said, leaning against the wall. “Your last night here.”

“It feels so weird, dude,” Sam admitted, closing one box with duct tape and carefully writing _Comics – Marvel_ on it, before reaching for an empty one. “I mean, I guess I didn't think we would live together forever, but somehow it happened exactly when I didn't expect it.”

Blaine snorted. “Sam, you asked Mercedes to live with you. It's not like I kicked you out.”

“I know. But I guess part of me thought she was going to say no,” Sam said. He grabbed his beer and took a sip, momentarily pausing in his packing.

Blaine frowned. “Are you having second thoughts?”

There was a kind of calm on Sam's face that had never been there before, though. “No. Never.” He turned his head and looked Blaine right in the eyes. “I'm going to marry that girl, Blaine. Maybe not this year or next... but I'm going to marry her.”

Blaine smiled. He wished he had someone in his life he felt so sure about. It had been a long time since his last serious relationship, and sometimes he craved what Sam and Mercedes had – the intimacy, the trust, the absolute and undeniable faith in what they shared. He didn't think he had ever felt that way about anyone. He certainly didn't feel that way about Eli, the guy from his music theory class he had been dating for almost two months now. But maybe he would, someday?

He clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed. “Then don't let her go, Sam.”

Sam returned his smile. There was a spark in his eye that spoke of happiness and commitment. “I won't.”

* * *

The next morning, Blaine stood in Sam's now empty room. All the furniture, the comic books, the clothes – both clean and dirty – were gone. He had walked out the door with the last of his boxes ten minutes ago.

He felt a tightness in his chest. Sam was his best friend, and though he knew they would always be there for each other, he knew it was the end of their friendship the way it had been. There would be no more impromptu movie marathons that lasted an entire weekend. Sam wouldn't walk into his bedroom at three in the morning to force Blaine to go to sleep during the mess that was finals week. Blaine wouldn't be able to seek Sam's comforting embraces whenever he argued with his dad, whenever he felt inadequate, whenever the weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders.

He looked around at the bare walls, nothing but silence in every corner. That afternoon, Kurt would move in and he would fill every inch of this place with his own energy, probably different than Sam's. Maybe they would have their own rituals. Maybe they would cultivate their own friendship. Maybe they could be there for each other, too.

The empty room was filled to the brim with possibilities that Blaine wasn't sure he was quite ready to accept yet.

For the next few hours, he would simply allow himself to mourn the end of the best time of his life.

* * *

Kurt arrived a little after noon, Rachel and Santana in tow, and Blaine rolled his sleeves and asked how he could help, earning a bright grin from Kurt.

There were boxes everywhere, and soon Blaine was worried Kurt's things wouldn't actually fit into the apartment, and when Kurt rolled his eyes and said “oh, don't worry, most of these boxes have clothes in them” he actually worried that none of them would even fit inside Kurt's room.

Rachel was horribly unhelpful – she made sure she only carried boxes labeled as _pillows_ or _scarves_ (and yes, there was a whole box for scarves only) – while Santana was horribly unhelpful in a whole different way, mostly by leaning against the breakfast bar and watching them all work while she made wildly inappropriate comments, such as “Kurt, come stand right here and look at the hobbit's ass when he bends over, you'll have an aneurysm” and “are you sure you're not paying for this place in sexual favors? Because I don't see how you could possibly afford to live here otherwise with your loser salary, Hummel.”

Blaine truly hoped she wouldn't visit them often.

Kurt, however, was the most effective person Blaine had ever seen. Even though the two girls kept trying to distract him and were shockingly useless, he managed to place the furniture and unpack half of the boxes in record time, with some help from Blaine for the heavier lifting.

Blaine had class that afternoon, but wanted to stay and help. However, Kurt waved him away, told him he would be fine, and that was what he had brought his minions for. Rachel and Santana scoffed at him as Kurt practically pushed him out the door, reassuring him over and over again that they could take care of everything.

By the time Blaine got home again that evening, a pizza in hand, Kurt was home alone, sitting on the couch with his head thrown. He looked exhausted but satisfied, and all the boxes, except one, had disappeared.

“I thought we could celebrate our first night as roommates with some pizza,” Blaine announced as he placed the box on the coffee table.

“You're my hero,” Kurt murmured. “I would hug you but I don't think my arms are working.”

“Will they work enough for you to feed yourself or do you want me to hold a slice up to your face?” Blaine teased, letting himself fall on the couch, and marveling a little at how easy it was to be with Kurt already. If he couldn't have Sam, he was glad it was Kurt.

“I'll feed myself, thank you very much,” Kurt replied, and reached for a slice.

“Are you all done, then?” Blaine asked as he did the same.

“Yeah, all done except for that box over there,” he nodded towards it. “They're books. I was hoping I could put them in the bookcase with yours? I don't have any shelves in my room, but I could get one later on if you don't feel like sharing.”

“Of course I'll share,” Blaine immediately said. “I'll make room tomorrow. And feel free to make any changes you want, like I said. The idea is that we're both comfortable living here.”

“So far so good,” Kurt whispered, turning his head to face him, a lazy, beautiful smile on his face.

 _Yeah_ , Blaine thought, smiling right back at him. _So far so good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now they're roommates!  
> Hope you liked this chapter! I will be seeing you again on Wednesday!  
> Love,  
> L.-


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!  
> I hope you guys are having a wonderful day. Thank you for the comments in the last chapter, I'm very glad everyone seems to be enjoying this story so far!  
> Sending love and gratitude to my beta, Christine <3  
> The lyrics for today's chapter come from Grow as we go.  
> Hope you'll like this one!

_I am unfinished, I’ve got so much left to learn_ _  
_ _I don’t know how this river runs  
But I'd like the company through every twist and turn._

* * *

It took a few seconds for Kurt to remember where he was when he opened his eyes the following morning. He looked up at the ceiling, and did a quick sweep of the room, recognizing things that belonged to him but not the room itself – until he remembered he no longer lived in the townhouse with Mercedes.

As soon as he was aware of that, he was also aware of the pain in every single muscle in his body, a direct consequence from carrying heavy boxes and furniture, and he was suddenly so, so glad for the elevator, because if he'd had to do all that heavy lifting up four flights of stairs, he wasn't sure he would have been able to get out of bed today.

Sore muscles or not, he had to face the day, so he pushed the blankets off and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. It was still early – barely past six in the morning – and Kurt had nowhere to be until noon, but he longed for a shower, so he grabbed a change of clothes and the toiletries he still hadn't found a place for and headed to the bathroom.

The apartment was quiet, no signs of Blaine rising yet. He padded into the bathroom and stepped into the shower, which, as he had already found out the previous afternoon, had amazing water pressure. Kurt could have just stayed there, under the spray of warm water, for the rest of the morning.

He dressed in perfectly tailored black pants and a blue checkered shirt and styled his hair just rigjt, ready to face yet another day of auditions that would hopefully – hopefully – go better than all the previous ones. Then he went into the kitchen to start on breakfast. He had no idea what Blaine usually liked, but he guessed he couldn't go wrong with some eggs. He found some veggies in the fridge, and hoping Blaine wouldn't mind, he grabbed them to make a frittata.

By the time Kurt heard sounds that indicated Blaine had woken up, the whole kitchen smelled of coffee and he was almost done cooking breakfast. He turned to greet Blaine and froze in his spot.

Blaine, sleepy-eyed and yawning, walked into the kitchen in his tiny grey boxers and a white undershirt. His hair was all over the place and his body, though compact, looked strong and muscled in all the right places. Kurt felt his grip on the spatula tightening.

“Uh, good morning,” he said.

Blaine practically jumped a foot in the air, his eyes going wide. He pressed a hand to his heaving chest, his back flat againt the wall. “Holy shit, I totally forgot Sam isn't here anymore.”

Kurt chuckled and turned back to the pan, checking he didn't burn the food. “Sorry to disappoint. Just me.”

“I'm so sorry,” Blaine said, looking down at himself. “I wasn't awake enough to realize... I should go get dressed.”

Kurt splitted the frittata in two and put it in the plates. “Nonsense. You don't have to change for me.” He put one of the plates on the breakfast bar and gestured for Blaine to help himself to it. “I hope you don't mind that I used a few things I found in the fridge. I'll go grocery shopping later today.”

Blaine hesitated, glancing at his bare feet, before he sighed and simply slid onto the stool. “Not at all. Feel free to use whatever you want. This looks amazing, Kurt.”

 _You_ _look amazing_ , Kurt's brain supplied, but fortunately, Kurt held his tongue back. God, he needed to get laid. It had been way too long if a simple glance at a guy in his underwear was enough to get him this flustered.

Kurt poured the coffee into two cups before he joined Blaine at the breakfast bar. “Then eat up before it gets cold.”

He could almost feel the heat coming from Blaine's body next to him and thought that he should have served breakfast at the small dining table instead. It wouldn't have felt this crowded.

Blaine took a good sip of coffee. “So, what does your day look like today?”

“Well, I have most of my morning off, so I'll probably call my dad to let him know the move went alright,” Kurt said. He paused to take a bite of frittata – it really was amazing. “I have an audition at noon, and then I should do some shopping before getting ready for work tonight. That's pretty much it. What about you?”

“I have a morning class today, then a couple of students coming in the afternoon, and then a lot of homework,” Blaine explained, with a little groan at the end. “Your day sounds a little more exciting than mine. What's the audition for?”

“Oh, some new production very off, off, off-Broadway, I think,” Kurt explained, trying not to sound too disappointed. “The script sounds absolutely insane, but I figured maybe they'll be insane enough to hire me.”

Blaine gave him a little smile. “I'm sure you'll blow them away.”

“Yeah, well, my dad always says that, too, and so far... no one at all has been blown away,” Kurt retorted, hoping he didn't sound too bitter. It was too early for a pity party. He decided a change of subject was in order. “I would much rather struggle in New York than thrive in Lima, Ohio, though.”

“Oh, I agree,” Blaine replied, around a bite of frittata. “Personally, I've never been to Lima, but I imagine it's not that different from Westerville, where I grew up. Coming to New York felt like I was stepping into a whole new world. I would much rather be here, even if things aren't perfect, than back there.”

Kurt hummed in agreement, something about Blaine knowing how he felt from first hand experience made him feel accepted and calm. In the very few hours they had been roommates, Kurt could already tell it had been a great decision to come live with him. He should probably send Mercedes flowers or chocolates. He seriously owed her.

Blaine finished his breakfast and got up to place his dirty dishes in the sink. Before he walked towards his room, he paused to give Kurt's shoulder a tight squeeze and said: “For the record, though... I think there's more than struggling in store for you. I think there's a pretty bright future ahead for Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt watched him walk away – he was _not_ looking at his ass in those small, tight boxers – and wondered if his new, perfect roommate was flirting with him, or if Kurt really, really, _really_ needed to get laid.

* * *

The phone only rang twice before Burt Hummel's familiar voice echoed on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey, dad,” Kurt murmured. “How are you?”

“We're good, kiddo. How are you? Are you all moved in?” Burt asked, and there was a creak in the background that told Kurt his father was sitting down at the old leather armchair in the living room, the one that had belonged to Finn's father.

Kurt stood at the large window in his own living room, miles away, feeling suddenly homesick. He had such a lovely view from here, Manhattan at his feet. But out of nowhere, as it usually happened when he talked to his dad and the longing for his family became almost unbearable, the city seemed to lose some of its perennial glow, and all Kurt could think about was the quietness and familiarity of Lima.

“All moved in,” he confirmed. “The apartment is amazing, dad. Almost better than the place I had with Mercedes. I really lucked out.”

“Well, I'm glad, Kurt. I know you were worried about it, even if you tried to hide it. How's the new roommate? I forget his name,” Burt said.

Kurt smiled. “It's Blaine. And he's fantastic. I think what I was most worried about was having to live with another guy, but he's so clean and respectful and nice...”

“And gay?” Burt interrupted.

Kurt snorted. “Yes, he's gay. But I don't see what that has to do with anything.”

“Well, I know you've been lonely...”

Kurt decided it was time to cut off wherever his dad was going with this because it was just ridiculous. “I also have a boyfriend, in case you have suddenly developed amnesia and completely forgotten about Adam.” He took a deep breath. “And even if Adam wasn't in the picture, it would be a catastrophic idea to even think about persuing something with the guy I live with. Come on, dad.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Burt immediately said. “You know I worry, Kurt. I know it's been hard on you, Adam being away for so long...” He must have noticed Kurt staying quiet, because he hurried to change the subject. “Anyway, tell me all about the apartment.”

Kurt did, sparing no details and describing the look from his window, promising to send his dad pictures later. They talked until Kurt had to go or he would be late for his audition.

Burt wished him luck before he hung up. Kurt wished he could call him one day and give him the good news that all his hard work had paid off. He knew his father didn't care if he was a waiter, a Broadway star or anything in between, but it mattered to Kurt. It mattered to him to make his father proud. It mattered where his hard work took him.

He left the apartment and, on the way to his audition, once again he thought about the internship at Vogue, about how happy he had been there, about how amazing his boss had been. He thought about all the opportunities it could have opened up for him. He thought of how he had walked away from it, and wondered, again and again and again, if he hadn't made the worst mistake of his life.

* * *

Blaine let himself fall onto his usual seat and turned his head to smile at Eli, who smiled back briefly before returning his attention to his phone. The lecture hall was still relatively empty, and it was early enough that Blaine would have had time to stop for a cup of coffee before class. He regretted not making a small detour to the little coffee house on campus – their professor had a reputation of being The Most Boring Professor in the Music Department for a reason. Whenever he started talking, Blaine could feel himself slipping into a daydream state. Coffee would have helped.

“What's up?” Eli asked, eyes still on his phone.

“Not much,” Blaine replied. He took a notebook out of his backpack – he was always optimistic that he would actually take notes during this class, and then he never did. But there was a first time for everything. Maybe today was finally the day he would stay awake enough to do it. “My new roommate moved in yesterday. He's cool.”

“Is he hotter than Sam? Man, he was nice to look at,” Eli murmured with a longing sigh.

“I thought _I_ was nice to look at,” Blaine retorted, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully. Eli had never been one for paying many compliments to him, not even when he had Blaine naked and panting in his bed. So Blaine was fishing a bit. Sue him. It was nice to feel wanted.

“I'm not saying you're not, but Sam is a model,” Eli said, finally putting his phone down. “Watching him walk into the kitchen in nothing but his underwear was a highlight for me.”

Blaine subtly looked down at himself. Okay, he wasn't Sam. He wasn't a model. But he was in perfect shape, he took care of himself and he knew he wasn't completely undesirable. He tried not to feel too bad now. Eli wasn't saying all that just to make him uncomfortable or put him down. He just sometimes had no idea how much Blaine craved a little attention, a few compliments.

“Well, I guess his girlfriend will be the one enjoying that view now,” Blaine said. “But Kurt is really nice, so I'm glad he's my new roommate.”

Part of him wanted Eli to comment on the fact that Blaine was living with another guy, but there was no hint of jealousy in his voice. “That's great. Hey, have you finished the essay due on Friday? I feel like I'm going insane just thinking about it.”

“No, I haven't even started,” Blaine replied, wincing a bit. He knew he had been silly to put it off, but there had been too many things in his mind lately. “Hey, why don't you come over later and we get it done? Misery loves company.”

Eli grinned. His dark eyes roamed over Blaine's body, finally showing some interest. “Can I stay after we're done? It'll be easy to work if I know there's a reward waiting at the end.”

Blaine laughed, just as their professor walked into the room, and winked at Eli before turning his attention to the front of the classroom. “A reward sounds exactly like what we both need.”

* * *

Kurt shouldn't have been surprised that he had a bad day. He was so used to them lately that he barely noticed them anymore. It was part of his routine – bad audition, getting yelled at and humiliated at the restaurant because the owner was a crapbag without an inch of human decency – so he felt like he should have built a stronger shield against it all at this point. Everything should have slid right off him. It shouldn't touch him. It shouldn't affect him.

It totally did.

He had been halfway home by the time he realized he had started walking in the direction of Mercedes' place instead of his own new apartment. He turned around and went in the opposite direction. He wondered how long it would take him to get used to living with Blaine.

When he finally got home and slipped the key into the front door, he was tired and ready to have a light snack and head straight to bed.

However, as soon as he stepped inside, he noticed that Blaine wasn't alone. There was another guy there, tall with dark hair, sitting next to Blaine on the floor, their backs against the couch, computers and papers spread in front of them on the coffee table. They both looked up when they heard Kurt coming in.

“Oh hey!” He said, a little surprised. Blaine hadn't mentioned they would have company.

“Hi Kurt,” Blaine said with a nice smile. “This is Eli, my... friend. We're working on our essays.”

The slight hesitation and pause told Kurt there was more to this Eli guy, but he decided now was not the time to pry. “Hi Eli, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Eli said, with a quick smile before his attention went back to his computer, and he continued typing as if there had been no interruption whatsoever.

Blaine, however, stood up and followed Kurt into the kitchen. “Hey, I hope you don't mind. I know it's only your second night here and I didn't mention I would have anyone over, but we really need to get these essays done before Friday.”

“No, not at all,” Kurt replied, as he opened the fridge and grabbed some pre-packed salad he had bought on his grocery run that afternoon. “You don't have to change your whole life just because I'm here, Blaine. I'm exhausted so I'll just go to my room, eat this and hopefully fall asleep the minute my head touches my pillow.”

“Okay. We still have a bit more work to do, but then we'll head to bed too,” Blaine replied, watching as Kurt poured some dressing on his salad. “How was your day?”

 _We'll head to bed too_ , Kurt almost arched an eyebrow at the choice of words. So there really was more there than just friendship. “Honestly? I'm just glad it's over. Tomorrow will be a brand new day.”

Blaine smiled sadly at him. “That bad, huh? There's ice cream in the freezer if you need something to cheer you up.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, I'm fine, thanks. I think I'll just go, maybe see if my boyfriend is still up for a skype call, and then just sleep. I hope your day was better than mine?”

“Yeah, it was okay,” Blaine said, as he went back into the living room to rejoin his _friend_. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight, Blaine,” Kurt replied and then waved at Eli. “Goodnight, Eli. It was nice to meet you, again.”

“Goodnight,” Eli said, not looking away from the computer.

Kurt closed the door of his bedroom behind himself. He sat down at his desk with his sad little salad and texted Adam to ask him if he was still awake – it was almost five in the morning in London, so there was just no way he would be up, but maybe he would see Kurt's text and realize his boyfriend needed to hear his voice and see his face at least through a computer screen.

He finished his dinner, and there was still no reply. He heard Blaine and Eli going into Blaine's room, and they were laughing quietly, as if trying not to disturb him. Kurt knew those sounds – sounds that would lead to intimacy, laughter that came from people who were used to spending time together, laughter that came from having a lover you were familiar with. He opened his desk drawer and rummaged for his earphones. He plugged them into the computer and pressed play on the first song that he could find. He opened his email and decided to write to Adam, tell him about his day, even if it was a very, very poor replacement of what they could have had if Adam hadn't been miles away across the ocean.

He thought about what his father had said – _I know you've been lonely_ – and felt the heaviness of that truth sink right into his bones.

By the time he was done with his email and turned his computer off to go to sleep, the voices in the room next to his were quiet. He slipped into bed alone.

Tomorrow would be a new day, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Kurt needs a hug. We should all close our eyes and pretend we're giving him a very tight one.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will see you Saturday for the next one!  
> Have a wonderful week,  
> L.-


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!  
> I'm very happy with everyone's reactions to this story so far. Thanks for all the support, it means the world ♥  
> Big hugs to Christine, my favorite beta in the whole wide world.  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from the gorgeous song Better.  
> Enjoy!

_I'm not good at pretending that I'm happy to be alone  
_ _Part of me is a question, can't answer it on my own._

* * *

The next morning, Blaine woke up to the sound of his alarm and the left side of his bed already cold and empty.

It wasn't a rare ocurrence – Eli rarely stayed the whole night, slipping off the bed and leaving the apartment quietly long before Blaine woke up. Despite having told him many, many times that it was okay, that he was more than welcomed to stay, Eli always shook his head and said he had to go. They hadn't been seeing each other very long – about two months, although they had been flirting on and off for much longer, whenever they shared classes throughout their programs at NYU – and Blaine still couldn't quite figure him out. Did he leave because he didn't want to overstep? Or did he leave because he didn't want to be there in the morning?

Mornings were a whole different deal. At night, when they fell into bed, it was all about urgency and heat, but in the morning everything was so slow and a lot more intimate. It was easy to go to bed together. Waking up together... it could be such a vulnerable experience. And if Blaine had to be honest, he wasn't great with intimacy either. He couldn't really blame Eli for running away before the sun came up.

He got out of bed, feeling loose and relaxed like he only ever felt after sex. This time he remembered to slip into some pajama pants before he left the room. He wasn't sure Kurt would appreciate it if he walked into the kitchen completely naked.

Just as the day before, Kurt was already up and working at the stove, dressed impeccably, as if he had stepped out of a runway instead of rolled out of bed. It was amazing, really. Blaine had met many of Sam's model friends, but he had never seen anyone who looked so effortlessly stunning as Kurt did in the morning.

“Good morning!” He said, and Kurt startled.

“Oh, hi! I didn't hear you get up,” he replied, not turning from the stove, where he was making what smelled like blueberry pancakes.

Blaine walked up to him and glanced over his shoulder. “Damn, Kurt. That looks delicious.”

“Well, grab a plate,” Kurt said, flipping the pancakes expertly. “First batch is almost ready. I made more than enough for three.”

Blaine grabbed a plate from the cupboard and frowned, still too sleepy. “Three pancakes?”

Kurt snorted. “Not much of a morning person, are you? Three people, Blaine. In case Eli wants some?”

“Oh,” Blaine murmured, feeling the heat rising on his cheeks. If Kurt thought Eli had stayed, then he had probably heard them the night before. “No, he, uh... left.”

Kurt piled the pancakes on Blaine's plate and blinked at him in confusion. “Oh, I thought he...” He shook his head. “I hope he didn't leave because of me? I promise I won't make things awkward for him.”

“No, don't worry. He never stays the night,” Blaine said. He put his plate on the breakfast bar and poured two cups of coffee.

“Thanks,” Kurt said as he accepted one. “How long have you two been together?”

Blaine spluttered a bit, coffee dripping down his chin. “Well, we aren't, uh... _together_ together. He's not my boyfriend. We are... friends? Who are sort of seeing each other?”

Kurt arched an eyebrow at him, clearly amused. “Are you asking me? Because if you don't have the answers, I don't have the answers, Blaine.”

“Right,” Blaine reached for a napkin to wipe his face. “We've been seeing each other for a couple of months. But it's all super casual. I don't know if he... we haven't really talked things through.”

“Well, as long as you're happy...” Kurt muttered, and plated a few more pancakes for himself before joining Blaine at the breakfast bar. “I've always kind of admired people who can do casual relationships. I'm horrible at them. Not that I've had many. Or any, really.”

Blaine grinned at him. “You admire people who can do casual relationships? Why would you do that? It's kind of sad.” He laughed. “I admire people who can have long, healthy relationships. Now that's the goal.”

Kurt hummed in agreement and began eating his breakfast. But Blaine's curiosity was peaked.

“You mentioned a boyfriend last night?” He asked, and Kurt nodded. “How long have you been with him?”

“A little over four years,” Kurt replied, putting his coffee cup down and spearing a piece of pancake with his fork. “We met at NYADA, on my first week there. We were friends for a while, but eventually he asked me out and we've been together ever since.”

“Aw,” Blaine cooed. “See? Now that's something to admire.”

“Yeah, too bad he's all the way in London,” Kurt groaned. “Adam's British, actually. He went back to visit his family a little over six months ago and while he was there, he heard about an audition for a new musical in the West End and... well, he got the part. So he stayed.”

“That's great for him, but sort of sucks for you, huh?” Blaine commented.

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “But he's doing really well, so I'm happy for him.”

Blaine wanted to ask why Kurt hadn't followed him – what did he have to lose? He had a job he hated and he kept changing apartments. Nothing kept him in New York, at least that Blaine was aware of. Four years was a long time to be with someone – if Blaine ever had a relationship that lasted as long as that one, he wasn't sure he would let go so easily.

But he couldn't even get Eli to stay through the night.

* * *

It wasn't hard to fall into a perfect rhythm together. Kurt woke up first and made breakfast, which they ate together while talking about everything and anything. And every night, Kurt would get home after another long shift at work and find Blaine waiting for him with dinner ready. They would talk about their days – Blaine complaining about the insane amount of homework he had and Kurt complaining about his asshole boss and his lack of success at auditions – until they were so tired they had no choice but to go to bed. Sometimes, Kurt got home to an empty apartment and a note that said Blaine was out with Eli and there was food in the fridge to reheat if he was hungry. Other times, he would open the front door to voices echoing in the living room, only to find Blaine and Eli sitting together on the couch, usually studying or watching a movie and, on one occasion, making out.

But more often than not, it was just the two of them, and it was _easy_. They had become fast friends, and Kurt was relieved that Blaine was such a great roommate. There were days when it felt like everything else in his life was falling apart no matter how much he tried to keep it together, but Blaine was the one positive thing. He always made sure Kurt was comfortable, he was always willing to listen to him rant and complain, and when words weren't enough to soothe him, he went to the kitchen and returned with ice-cream and two spoons.

As weeks went by, it just became easier and easier. Kurt learned that when Blaine was stressed, he would run his fingers through his hair until the curls were sticking in every direction. He learned that Blaine had music running through his veins, that it was his passion, and that when he finally sat at the piano and let it all flow, it was so breathtakingly gorgeous that sometimes Kurt had to stop whatever he was doing and just listen. And it was just like listening to every secret Blaine had ever held dear. It was overwhelming and beautiful and so personal, and sometimes it made Kurt feel like he was intruding, but he couldn't help giving Blaine a one-man standing ovation each and every time. He loved the way Blaine blushed and ducked his head at the praise, his smile embarrassed but pleased.

Kurt learned that when Blaine was talking on the phone and smiling and laughing, he was talking to his brother; that if his voice was soft and his smile was fond, he was talking to his mother. But if he was tense and shifting uncomfortably, his part of the conversation mostly monosyllabic, then he was talking to his father. Blaine hadn't told him all the details about their relationship, not yet, but afterwards he always looked small and defeated, and when Kurt opened his arms offering a silent hug, he fell into it gratefully.

In return, Blaine learned that Kurt was stronger than people gave him credit for. He was determined and passionate, and even if his hard work never seemed to pay off and he came home every night looking ready to give up, he would wake up the next morning with a fierce look in his blue eyes, ready to do it all over again. He learned that he was a very private person – he talked freely about his dad, the person he loved the most, and their amazing relationship, but rarely mentioned the rest of his family, and he never talked about high school, or his relationship with Adam. He learned that Kurt could actually design and make clothes, and that he made a lot of the ones he wore on a regular basis. Kurt told him about his internship at Vogue, and the regret in his voice when he said he had left it for NYADA made Blaine wonder if Kurt wished he had taken a different path, not because he was scared he would never succeed, but because he had given up a real passion.

Blaine also learned that Kurt was talented in every single thing he did in his life – cooking, sewing, singing. The first time he had heard Kurt singing in the shower, his clear voice echoing against the tiles, Blaine had stood frozen in the middle of the living room, completely forgetting what he had been about to do, enthralled. How people didn't see what a star he was, how they kept shutting doors in his face week after week was something Blaine would never, ever understand. His fingers itched, asking him to sit at the piano and write something worthy of that voice. If he could, he would write a million musicals just for him alone. But he felt inadequate. Kurt was larger than life.

Still, it was nice to find someone that made life a little easier just by being there. Every single day they learned things about each other, and every single day they were grateful that Sam and Mercedes had brought them together.

* * *

Kurt smiled as the videocall connected and Adam's face appeared on his screen. “Hi!”

“Hi, Kurt!” Adam smiled back. He was sitting in his dressing room, already in his costume, and looking as handsome as ever. “How are you?”

“I'm good! I'm glad we finally managed to find time to talk a bit,” Kurt replied, leaning closer as if that would make the distance between them smaller. “What about you? How's the show?”

“It's _amazing_ ,” Adam said, his smile growing even wider. “We've been sold out for weeks, and there are already rumours about us getting a bunch of Olivier nominations.”

“That's fantastic!” Kurt exclaimed. “Oh, that just makes me wish I could see you perform even more. I can't believe I still haven't seen the show.”

“I have a feeling it's going to be running for a long time, so you'll have plenty of opportunities for it...” Adam muttered, just as the door to his dressing room opened and someone peeked in to talk to him for a moment.

It was a lucky interruption, because it meant he didn't see Kurt's face falling at his words. A long run on a musical could last _years_. He hadn't pressured Adam into talking about what being cast in the musical would mean for their relationship – he had been genuinely happy for Adam, known he had deserved it after working so hard for it, and figured he could wait for him a few months as he made a name for himself in the West End, hopefully to return to Broadway with a reputation of his own. But now... did this mean Adam was seriously considering staying in London indefinitely?

He managed to paint the smile back on his face just as Adam returned his attention to the screen.

“Sorry, love. It's always such a zoo here before perfomances,” Adam said, leaning his face on his hand and watching him. “So... tell me about you. You sound really upset about work in your emails. What's going on?”

“Oh, I...” Kurt suddenly didn't feel like talking. It had been so difficult to finally get Adam to sit in front of a computer to talk to him, and now Kurt just wasn't in the mood anymore. He didn't want to talk about his boss yelling at him when he tripped and spilled soup on the floor, or about being told he was wrong for every single part he had auditioned for. Not when Adam's eyes were glinting with the excitement of pre-show jitters. “It's all fine. Sometimes I'm just tired, that's all.”

“I'm sure everything will be alright soon,” Adam reassured him, but to Kurt they were empty promises. Nothing looked like it was going to fall into place any time soon. “How's your dad? Have you talked to him lately?”

Talking about his father was easy, so Kurt did that. He filled the silence with stories about the garage and recounts of his father's latest check up at the doctor – which had gone better than expected, fortunately. He talked about him and didn't allow the doubts to creep in.

There was a knock on his own door this time, and Kurt looked over his shoulder as Blaine opened the door.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” He exclaimed immediately, when he saw Kurt was busy. “I didn't mean to interrupt, you guys.”

“It's fine, come meet my boyfriend,” Kurt said, waving Blaine in. “Adam, this is my roommate, Blaine.”

“Nice to finally put a face to the name. Congratulations on your show, Kurt mentioned you're in London for it,” Blaine said politely, leaning so he could fit into the camara.

“Hi Blaine. Thank you,” Adam nodded with an equally polite smile. “It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you.”

“Good things I hope?” Blaine muttered, looking at Kurt questioningly.

Kurt squeezed his arm with a little smile. “Only the best.”

“Well, I'll let you go back to your virtual date,” Blaine said, standing back straighter. “I just wanted to check something with you but it can wait.”

“Oh, actually,” Adam interrupted, and both Kurt and Blaine looked back at the computer. “I have to run, Kurt. I still haven't put on my make up or my mic. Talk to you soon?”

“Sure, no problem,” Kurt replied, trying not to visibly deflate. “Break a leg.”

“Thanks. Love you,” Adam said and waved. “Bye Blaine!”

Blaine waved back. “Bye Adam!”

Kurt snapped the laptop shut before the call was even disconnected. Blaine's eyebrows flew to his hairline, looking down at Kurt in shock.

“Uh. Is everything alright? I'm really sorry I interrupted. I didn't know you were talking to your boyfriend,” Blaine said softly.

“It's not you. It's just...” Kurt shook his head. He felt frustrated and angry. “It's been six months, and every time I talk to him, he just makes it sound like he's never coming back.”

Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “I'm sorry, that sucks. Why don't you bring it up? I know it's not a fun conversation, but at least you'll know where you stand?”

Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly where he was standing. Right now, it looked all blurry, foggy, the answers just ahead of him but not clear enough for him to actually see if they were positive or negative. And with the way everything was going lately... he just wasn't sure he could deal with a boyfriend who had no interest in returning to him on top of it all.

He took a deep breath and glanced up at Blaine. “So, you wanted to ask me something?”

Blaine blinked at him, like he wanted to say something, but he just squeezed his shoulder once more and let go. “Yup. I know you have work tonight, but every Thursday I play at this cute little bar not too far from here, and I was wondering if you wanted to stop by after your shift? You've had a really heavy week with all those auditions and work and... I don't know, I feel like you could use some time off. Not think about anything at all and just have a little fun.”

“I...” Kurt began to say, only to be cut off by Blaine.

“Before you say no, you should know Sam and Mercedes are coming, and you can totally bring any of your other friends,” Blaine said, his smile bright and huge, and it was sort of impossible to say no to him when he looked like that. “Even Santana. That's how much I want you to come.”

Kurt chuckled, and was already nodding. “Fine, I'm coming. But my shift tends to run a little longer than usual on Thursdays, for some reason. Won't you be over by the time I get there?”

“Nope, you'll make it just in time, I promise,” Blaine said, bouncing excitedly on his feet. He grabbed Kurt's hands to pull him up. “I'll buy you the first beer and everything.”

“Okay, okay, I already said I'm coming.” Kurt laughed. His enthusiasm was infectious. “But can it be a pretty cocktail instead of a beer?”

Blaine was already dancing his way out of the room to let Kurt get ready for work. He pointed finger guns at him and winked. “Whatever you want.”

At least he had something to look forward to after his shift tonight.

* * *

It was close to midnight by the time Kurt stepped out of the restaurant. He tightened his coat around him, the mid-October chill seeping through his clothes and making him wish he'd grabbed a scarf before he left the apartment earlier. He was very tempted to just head home, but there was a text message from Blaine in his phone, nothing but the adress of the bar and a smiley face. He had promised he would go.

With a little sigh, he began the short walk towards the bar. Most shops and buildings were already decorated for Halloween. Sometimes it felt like New York was an endless display of holiday decorations – Halloween pumpkins turning into Christmas trees, and then almost immediately into red hearts for St. Valentine's. He wondered if his boyfriend would still be across the ocean in February, and then he shook his head and decided he didn't want to think about it, not tonight.

The bar was as crowded as he had expected it to be. It was a cute corner bar, with an exposed brick facade and a wooden sign hanging above the door that simply said Playlist Bar. As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed a small stage near the back, where a guy was finishing a song with his guitar. He got up to enthusiastic applause just as Kurt found his friends sitting at a table halfway between the bar and the stage.

Mercedes and Sam were sitting very close together, his arm thrown across her shoulders, on one side of the table. On the other sat Santana with her long-time girlfriend, Brittany, who had also gone to high school with them. Brittany saw him approaching first, a smile blooming on her pretty face, and immediately waved him over.

“Hi Kurt!”

He greeted them and took the only available seat at the table just as Blaine got on the stage. His friends immediately began to applaud and cat-call, making Blaine chuckle as he took a seat behind a small electric piano.

His eyes immediately found their table, and fell on Kurt. A huge smile appeared on his face. “Hey everyone. Thanks for having me again. It's nice to see some familiar faces in the crowd tonight,” he grinned even more, earning another round of boisterous applause from his friends' table, Kurt joining in with a laugh. “Okay, let's play some music, shall we?”

Blaine began playing a few chords on the piano, as if checking if it was tuned, before he rolled his shoulders and launched into the first song. Kurt was surprised to realize he recognized it immediately, even if he hadn't listened to it since his high school years.

“ _You think I'm pretty, without any make up on..._ ”

He wanted to laugh. He really did. But there was something about Blaine's earnest face as he sang that song – his eyes falling closed, his lips brushing the microphone – that had Kurt glued to his spot, watching and listening, captivated.

He had heard Blaine humming or singing under his breath while he worked on the piano at home, but never full on singing like he was tonight. His voice made Kurt think of fall, of thick sweaters and soft scarves, of steamy mugs of coffee or tea or even apple cider, something comforting for mind, body and soul. It was warm and beautiful, with just enough raspiness to make the silly pop song something more, something Kurt had never expected it could be.

“Close your mouth, Hummel, or you're going to swallow a fly,” Santana said sharply into his ear, and Kurt realized he had been staring open-mouthed at the stage for the past three minutes. The song was over and Blaine had moved on to the next one effortlessly. “I think you need a drink.”

Kurt gestured for the waittress. “I agree.”

Blaine's set lasted almost an hour, most of if consisting of pop songs, and some songs from musicals. There was a tip jar on the edge of the stage that was overflowing by the end of his last song. He received a standing ovation from over half the bar when he was done, and he stepped off the stage with a wave and a brilliant smile that had the ladies in the table next to theirs swooning. Kurt couldn't blame them.

“He's really good, isn't he?” Sam said as they all sat back down.

“He is,” Santana agreed. “He's almost good enough to distract from his horrible clown outfit. What's with all those bowties? Breathplay kink, maybe?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “It's _not_ a clown outfit. What's wrong with a black polo, striped bowtie, and red pants? I think it's really cute.”

“You think _he's_ cute,” Santana retorted, but thankfully no one else in the table had heard her over the sound of the next performer coming onto the stage, so it was easy to ignore her.

Kurt had learned over the years that ignoring Santana was the best way to deal with her.

“Where's Rachel?” He asked the rest of the table.

“She got held up at the theatre,” Mercedes explained. “She said she'll come to the next one.”

Rachel had been cast in Chicago as soon as she had graduated NYADA. Most days she played one of the inmates featured in Cell Block Tango, but she was also Roxie Hart's understudy. It was only a matter of time before she was the actual lead in either that or other show – Rachel Berry always got what she wanted. She had been born under a golden star.

Sometimes Kurt just wanted a spark of that same spotlight she enjoyed so often.

Before he had time to sink into his own misery once more, Blaine arrived at their table, smiling widely. Sam and Mercedes immediately stood up and patted him on the back, careful not to spill the drinks he was carrying, congratulating him on a great set, with Brittany joining in the praise and elbowing Santana to do the same.

Blaine smiled bashfully. “Thanks, guys. You're all so kind,” he said. He put a beer down on the table and then a tall glass of something blue that seemed to sparkle right in front of Kurt. “I asked the waitress what the prettiest cocktail in the house was, I hope this settles my debt.”

Kurt grinned at him. “It's more than settled. You were fantastic, Blaine.”

Blaine hid his blush by busying himself asking the people at the table next to theirs if he could borrow their extra chair. He dragged it over to sit next to Kurt. “Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. And I'm super grateful you all came out to support me, guys.”

“I think we should make this a regular hang out,” Kurt proposed, and the rest of the table's occupants immediately nodded their agreement. “In adition to our potluck dinners on Mondays. Which you should start attending, by the way,” he added, pointing at Blaine.

“Yes, make sure to drag him to the next one!” Mercedes said, clapping at the idea. “How come you've never brought him, Sam?”

Conversation flowed easily and Kurt watched in contentment as all his friends talked and laughed and got along – even Santana. He took a sip of his pretty drink, which was also sweet and delicious, and then let his eyes fall on Blaine once again. He was looking back, happy and relaxed.

This was what life was supposed to be like. It shouldn't have been about shitty bosses, failed auditions and long distance boyfriends who made him second guess everything. It was supposed to be about this: moments of simple joy with his little family, the one he had put together piece by piece over the years since he had moved away from home.

Tonight, he wouldn't worry. Tonight he would laugh and enjoy himself, and let the memory of the warmth of Blaine's voice wash over him.

Tonight, he would be happy.

* * *

A few days later, Kurt stormed into the apartment in the middle of the afternoon, his shoulders so tense they _hurt_. But it didn't hurt as much as his bruised, stepped-on pride.

He had waited for three hours to audition for a new musical so Off-Broadway it was practically in Jersey. He had smiled politely at all the weird suggestions the casting director made at him. He had repeated his monologue five times, because they kept telling him there was _something missing_ and _maybe if we hear him one more time_. He had blushed to the roots of his hair when asked if he would be willing to do a few scenes nude – and Kurt wasn't the shy little kid who didn't want anyone looking at his body fearing what they would think of him, fearing their disgust. He knew he had grown into himself, that he was strong. His boyfriend had told him he had an amazing body on several ocassions. He was not embarrassed.

It was the quick, almost desperate nod he gave in response that embarrassed him, because... was he really willing to throw any dignity he had left for such a cheap production he wouldn't want to be part of if things had gone his way?

But his embarrassment hadn't been enough to send him running back home. He had stayed and put up with each and every single thing they had thrown his way, until at last, the casting director had tilted his head, still unconvinced, only to turn to the person sitting next to him to say: “He kind of sounds like a girl, doesn't he?”

And Kurt was done. He was _so_ done.

He was tired. Part of him wanted to get on the next plane back to Ohio to hide in his childhood bed and let his dad rub his back until he stopped feeling like such a failure. But how would that help? Giving up had never been an option. But sometimes Kurt wished the world could work in his favor, at least once. He wasn't asking for much. Just a chance to prove that he wasn't wrong. Just a chance to prove that he had talent. Just a chance to prove that he could be so much more than what people usually thought of him.

He also felt so dirty. He couldn't believe he had stood in that dark little audition room and told those people who had done nothing but judge him that he would be okay being nude. Hadn't he given Rachel a really long speech on all the reasons she shouldn't do it when she tried to do that student film back in her NYADA years? How had he forgotten about it? And, most importantly, why was he throwing himself around like he didn't matter? Hadn't he learned anything from his father? Burt Hummel would be so, so disappointed if he knew just how low Kurt had fallen.

He felt so dirty, in fact, that he dropped his satchel next to the front door and headed straight for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing his skin until the shame washed off.

Kurt opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, still too upset to realize something wasn't exactly right, as he stood in the doorway, blinking.

Because there was someone else inside the bathroom already.

Blaine stood in front of the sink, wiping the steam from the mirror, frozen mid-action and completely naked as they stared at each other in confusion.

As Kurt's brain tried to catch up with the situation, his eyes roamed out of their own free will, following the lines of Blaine's compact but perfect body. Seriously, how was it fair for someone to have such a perfect v-shape that lead down to...

“Oh my god!” Kurt finally screamed, his hands flying up to cover his eyes.

He heard Blaine chuckle. “Well. I guess this was bound to happen at some point. I can't tell you how many times Sam walked in on me when we were roommates. He too, like you, forgot to knock sometimes.”

“I'm so sorry,” Kurt said, making sure his fingers covered his eyes perfectly, mortified. “I thought you weren't home. I was just... I just wanted...”

“It's fine, Kurt, really,” Blaine said, and snorted. “Probably nothing you haven't seen before.”

 _Oh trust me, I don't think I've ever seen something quite like this before_ , Kurt thought and fortunately did _not_ say aloud.

Kurt realized he was having trouble breathing – and probably not in a creepy way. It didn't have to do with Blaine standing naked in their bathroom. It was just... this whole day had been too much and it wasn't even close to over. Kurt wanted to curl up on the shower floor and let the water fall on him until he was so numb he didn't feel anything anymore.

“Hey, hey,” Blaine murmured, his voice worried, and suddenly there were two hands rubbing up and down his arms, trying to comfort him. “What's wrong? Seriously, this is not such a big deal. I'm sure you've walked in on your roommates before...”

“Oh god, don't remind me,” Kurt whined, who had seen more boobs than he had ever thought he would.

“You can look. I covered myself,” Blaine said.

Kurt let his hands fall only to splutter in confusion. “How is this _covering yourself_?”

Blaine had only wrapped a towel losely around his waist. His chest was still displayed in all its glory. There were a few droplets of water still trailing down towards his abs. Kurt wanted to hit his head against the wall until he was unconscious.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked, his tone so serious that it was almost enough to make Kurt forget what was right in front of him. “I mean, I'm flattered, but I don't think my body is enough to turn you into such a mess. You looked upset when you came in already.”

“Just... a bad day,” Kurt replied, taking a step back. Blaine's hands fell from his shoulders, where they had stilled. “Let me know when you're done with the bathroom. I need a shower.”

“Uh, okay,” Blaine muttered, frowning as Kurt turned around to leave. “Are you sure you're okay? I mean, I have a date with Eli tonight, but I can stay, if you need the company...”

Kurt immediately shook his head. “No, I'm fine, I promise. You guys have fun.”

He went into his room before Blaine could say another word. He closed the door and leaned against it, letting his forehead fall onto the white wood. He closed his eyes. Now he didn't only have to deal with his own embarrassment and bruised pride, but with an arousal that shouldn't have been awaken by his _roommate_ , of all people.

God, he needed Adam to come back already. He was going insane.

* * *

Kurt went to work and decidedly not thought about the curve of Blaine's naked shoulder.

He took the order of a lovely elderly couple who were celebrating their anniversary and decidedly not thought about the way the small of Blaine's back dipped before giving way to the perfect roundness of Blaine's ass.

He strolled into the kitchen to ask the chef to cook a man's bistec a little more and decidedly not thought about the dark hair that covered Blaine's chest and trickled down over his stomach, around his bellybutton and down towards...

“Hummel!” His boss yelled, startling him. “Move, useless boy, move. I don't pay you to daydream. The people at table five have been trying to get your attention for several minutes now!”

For once in his life, he was grateful for his boss' brusque and rude way of addressing him, because it seemed to be the only thing to shake the images from his head.

At least for a few minutes.

* * *

By the time Kurt got home that night, he was so worked up he thought he would explode.

He was so, so glad that Blaine wasn't home, because he really wasn't proud of what he was about to do.

He once again dropped his bag next to the front door – twice on the same day, he was getting careless with his belongings, he did not like what he was becoming – and then, as he headed towards his bedroom, used one hand to dial his boyfriend's number on his phone and the other to start unzipping his pants.

Adam picked up the call just as it was about to go to voicemail, his voice thick with sleep. “Kurt?”

“Hi,” Kurt said breathlessly, as he let himself fall onto his bed.

“What's going on?” Adam asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Kurt assured him, as he pushed his pants and underwear down in one quick move. “Just... need you.”

“Need me for what?” Adam was still not awake enough for this, god, it was so frustrating. Kurt wrapped his free hand around himself, stroking roughly, a little moan escaping through his lips. “Oh, _oh_. Okay. Wow.”

Kurt felt wild. He had lost all control over himself. He had never been a fan of having sex via phone or computer, which had made the months since Adam had left particularly terrible, but he liked intimacy. He liked to feel the other person right next to him, moving against him, touching him. This was... cold and impersonal, but it would have to do.

And he had to do it with Adam over the phone. He had to do it with his boyfriend.

“Are you awake enough for this?” Kurt asked, his voice turning almost into a growl at the end.

“ _Yes_ ,” Adam muttered, sounding eager. “Just let me hear you.”

As he threw his head back, his hand working himself hard and fast, Kurt was so glad Blaine wasn't home.

* * *

The sound of the front door startled Blaine awake. He blinked in confusion for a few seconds. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. His book was on the floor, next to the bed, so he must have dozed off while reading it. He picked it up carefully, frowning. He had lost his place now. He would have to page through it until he found the chapter where he had left off.

After seeing Kurt so upset that afternoon, Blaine had called Eli and cancelled their date. He was sure there was something wrong, something that didn't have to do with him walking in on Blaine in the bathroom. He knew Kurt had had an audition that afternoon, and it probably hadn't gone as he had expected, judging by the look on his face when he arrived home. Eli had complained a bit – there was a new bar he wanted to go to, had looked forward to it for days – but eventually said it was fine. Blaine knew he was probably going to go to the bar without him anyway, but Blaine didn't mind. He really wanted to be home when Kurt came back from work.

Except he had dozed off, and now, as he sat up in bed, he heard Kurt rushing into his own room.

“Just... need you.”

The words came through the wall, low and ragged, stopping Blaine as he was about to stand up. It sounded like...

A long moan broke through the silence that inhabited the apartment.

Blaine breathed in sharply. Kurt must have been in the phone with Adam. He probably thought Blaine wasn't home. He would be so embarrassed if he knew Blaine was listening to him...

But it was difficult _not_ to listen to him. The sounds Kurt made caused heat to coil in his belly, made goosebumps rise on his skin. He tried to drown them out, tried to close his eyes and focus on something else – anything – but all his brain did was supply the images that accompanied those moans.

Blaine felt like a creep. Part of him wanted to stand up, knock something to the ground, make his presence known. But the rest of him was completely paralyzed, frozen in his bed and staring at the ceiling as the groans mixed with words – _Yes_ and _Adam, please_ and _just like that_ and _I want it so bad_ – travelled through the wall. If Blaine let his eyes fall shut, it was almost as having Kurt in the bed right next to him.

It didn't take long before a long, keening sound echoed in the other room and everything went still. He could make out some whispers, Kurt probably ending the phone call, but there was a buzzing in Blaine's brain that made it hard to hear anything else.

He looked down his own body, at the erection tenting his sweatpants, and groaned in frustration. There was no way he was going to be the creepy roommate who jerked off after eavesdropping on his friend having phone sex with his boyfriend. He wouldn't be able to look Kurt in the eyes in the morning. Kurt would be mortified if he knew...

Throwing an arm across his suddenly hot face, Blaine let out a pained exhale and wished he had gone to that bar with Eli, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual tension is BUILDING, GUYS.  
> Okay, who had “one of them accidentally sees the other naked” in the STMI bingo?   
> Hope you liked it! Have a wonderful weekend!  
> Love,  
> L.-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, my darlings!  
> Yes, I'm updating a little earlier, because I have a bit of a conflict with my schedule this week. I won't be able to update on Saturday so I decided to change the updates of this week to today and Thursday instead. I hope you don't mind! :)  
> Thank you for the comments on the last chapter. I appreciate it that you take the time to leave your thoughts after reading, it's a great motivation to keep writing!  
> All my love to Christine, for her help.   
> Lyrics for this chapter come from Bad Habit (that song is FIRE. I love it).  
> Enjoy!

_Bad habit, I know  
But I'm needin' you right now  
Can you help me out?  
Can I lean on you?  
Been one of those days  
Sun don't wanna come out  
Can you help me out?  
Can I lean on you?_

* * *

Kurt had had more than his fair share of bad days while growing up, and another handful as an adult. If he'd had to pick the worst one, it was when he heard his brother had died, tied with the day of his mother's death, and very closely by the day he had been pulled out of class in high school only to be told his father was in a coma.

So Kurt was no stranger to bad days, and in comparison, this day wasn't even close to his top three. But it was a bad day, coming on the heels of bad week after bad week. It was hard to be rejected day after day. It was hard to miss his boyfriend, to feel like the person he was supposed to lean on the most had been gone for so long and didn't sound eager to return soon. It was hard to go to work every day feeling like a failure. It was hard dealing with his boss' obvious hatred and only slightly veiled homophobia just because he needed the paycheck. It was hard to hear Blaine and Eli's laughter through the wall and look at the empty space next to him in bed.

Everything was falling apart, and, in retrospective, Kurt should have known he would eventually explode. He just wasn't prepared for the blast to reach such catastrophic proportions.

* * *

That Tuesday started with a grey sky and clouds hanging over New York City. Kurt finished his cup of coffee after Blaine had left for his morning class, checking his schedule for the day – two auditions, back to back, one for a musical and one for a play, followed by a long shift at work to cover for one of his coworkers who had to leave early to pick up her boyfriend at the airport after he had been studying abroad for the past couple of months. Kurt hadn't even hesitated in helping her out – he knew how she felt, how eager she must have been to see him again.

He checked the schedule again, sad that there wasn't a way to fit a quick phone call to Adam anywhere. They were talking less and less each day, and it felt like, no matter what Kurt did, this whole relationship was slipping through his fingers like a fistful of sand.

He got ready – triple checking his hair in the mirror in the foyer as he grabbed his keys – and then left the apartment, determined to come back home that night with a call back.

He stopped on the way to the first audition, the one for the musical, and got himself some coffee. Later that day, he would wish someone had advised him to get a venti chamomile tea instead. But now he left the coffee shop, with plenty of time to spare, and a grande non-fat mocha. He got on the subway and warmed up his voice. What he had loved about New York since the very first day was how no one even cared when people did something weird in the subway or the middle of the street. You could find people practicing speeches in crowded platforms or stretching their muscles against the walls of random businesses. No one cared. No one even glanced twice. Everyone had a place to be and no time to spare for the kid with hope in his eyes who began to belt his scales on the Q train.

When he arrived at the small theatre where auditions were being held, he was shocked at the amount of men who had shown up. It looked it was going to take longer than expected, and he began to wonder if he would make it to his next audition on time.

It didn't take long for him to realize that the answer was no, there was just no way it would be his turn before he had to run to the next place, all the way across town. He had two choices: miss the second audition altogether, or give up on this one and hope the next one had better chances for him.

In the end, he decided to stay – this was for a musical, what he wanted the most. He wouldn't have said no to being cast in a play, but this was what he truly wanted to do. He decided to wait it out.

He was beginning to worry he would be late for work as well, when the door where the auditions were being held opened and a group of people came out, talking amongst themselves and drinking coffee. They looked around the room at all the waiting candidates and Kurt looked down at himself to make sure he still looked as pristine as he had when he left his apartment.

When he looked back up, he startled, because one of the assistants was standing right in front of him.

“Oh, hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she said with a polite smile. “This is a little awkward, but... we want to thank you for coming in, but we're going in a different direction today and...”

“Wait,” Kurt interrupted, blinking at her in shock. “Are you...? I haven't even auditioned yet. I don't get to audition?”

He looked around to see if the same message was being passed along to any of the other candidates. Everyone was staring at him.

“I'm sorry. We just don't think you're right for the part,” the woman said, looking more and more uncomfortable with every passing second, but keeping her smile intact on her face.

“This is unfair. I've waited for hours and I don't even get to come in and show you what I've got?” Kurt asked, feeling like stomping his feet like a child. He was so sick of this same shit over and over again. “How do you even know I'm not right for the part? You haven't...”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated, a little louder, to cut him off. “I'm really sorry, but it's not up to me.” She leaned in a little closer. “I know it's unfair. But my boss asked me to let you know, and I have to do what he says. This is not... I'm sorry.”

Kurt's hands tightened on the strap of his satchel. He would not cry. “I missed another audition to stay for this. I'm gonna be late for work for this. This is just...” He could feel the lump in his throat getting heavier and heavier. “ _Fuck this_.”

He turned around and stormed out, feeling every single eye in the room on him.

 _He would not cry_.

* * *

A storm was looming over Manhattan, almost matching the one that was threatening to break inside of Kurt, when he arrived at the restaurant, ten minutes after his shift had started. He saw the angry look his boss was throwing at him across the restaurant, but managed to avoid him for now. He was still fighting tears and he would not cry, especially in front of that asshole.

He plastered a smile on his face that he was sure looked completely fake, and he didn't think about the rejection and how much it stung. He took a couple's order when they sat in his section, and he didn't think about people turning him away for the way he looked again. He went into the kitchen to get one of the orders out, and he didn't think about what it said about him, if Broadway, the most accepting of all show-biz industries, had no place for him.

He really tried not to think about it – he was at work, he had to focus on what he was doing, and obsessing about all the reasons they had asked him to go would solve nothing. It would only make him more and more upset.

He just didn't know how he was going to wake up the next day and put on a brave face when everything in his life was falling apart and he couldn't catch a break.

He was carrying a tray full of drinks to the large booth in the corner when several things happened at the same time: thunder resonated through the building, so strong it seemed to shake the walls and windows; a kid got scared and tried to hide under a table, and the lights flickered for a moment, making Kurt look up at the ceiling and not at where he was going.

He tripped over the kid – of couse he did, with the day he was having, he should have known the calamities would just keep coming – and fell forward, barely catching himself with his arms and rolling as not to fall onto the kid and crush him to death. The tray was the last thing on his mind and it clattered to the floor, drinks spilling everywhere and glasses shattering.

It was a miracle no one got hurt. Kurt managed not to roll onto the broken glass and the kid was now safely in his mother's arms, while his father stood up to help Kurt to his feet. He was covered in soda and wine and he was sure his whole body would ache from the fall the next day, but right now he was too dumb to notice anything at all. One moment he had been walking and the next he was on the floor.

“Are you okay?” The man asked.

“Yes, thank you,” he said with the best smile he could muster at the moment, because there was nothing more bruised than his own pride, especially today. “I'm sorry for the mess. I'll go find something to clean this up. Excuse me.”

He turned around and headed back towards the kitchen. He was about to make it safely through the door when a hand closed around his wrist, a little too tightly, and pulled him back. He was suddenly inches away from his boss' angry red face.

“This is coming off your paycheck,” he said, pointing at the broken glass everywhere. “And the next time you spill anything, you'll lick it clean, you useless cocksucker.”

Kurt felt his spine straightening, his eyes going wide, his features hardening. It wasn't the first time he heard that word, and unfortunately it wouldn't be the last, he was sure. But no one had insulted him so blatantly since he still walked the hallways of McKinley High School back in Lima, slurs and slushies being thrown at him on a daily basis. He was not a little kid, scared to face his bullies, anymore. He was an adult.

And he was so done.

“There won't be a next time,” he said coldly, tugging his wrist free. “Because I fucking quit. Good luck finding someone who will tolerate your abuse and your horrible breath – seriously, pop a mint every once in a while, will you – for the shit you pay me.”

“I pay you what you're worth,” his boss – _ex-boss_ – spat back at him.

Kurt snorted derisively. “You would have to sell this hell hole, and you would still not have enough to give me what I'm worth. Now get out of my way. I'm leaving.”

The man blinked at him in surprise. None of the staff ever stood up to him, though Kurt knew everyone hated him just as much as he did. He stood back and let Kurt slip into the kitchen, where he quickly gathered his stuff.

Two minutes later he was standing in the pouring rain, shaking both from the cold and the adrenaline coursing through his body.

Even though it would make no difference, as he was drenched already, he let out a ragged exhale and he did not cry.

* * *

The kitchen smelled like basil, spices and fresh tomatoes, as Blaine spun in his spot, using the wooden spoon as a microphone and singing the song that had been stuck in his head the entire day (Bon Jovi's _Shot Through the Heart_. He'd heard it at Starbucks when he stopped to pick his afternoon coffee and it had wormed its way into his brain. He wasn't mad about it, though – it was the perfect song to play air-guitar).

As he danced a little, gyrating his hips in a way that made him happy no one else was around to see him, he headed to one of the cupboards and grabbed a pot to put some water to boil. It was still early – Kurt probably wouldn't be home for another hour – but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. Most nights, Kurt arrived looking completely exhausted and Blaine was sure today wouldn't be the exception. He would be eager to go to bed, so Blaine didn't want to keep him waiting with dinner.

He was tasting the sauce to make sure it didn't need more salt when he heard the sound of the front door. He frowned and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Yes, it was too early for Kurt to be home.

“You're home early!” He called out loud, as he put the spoon down and headed out of the kitchen to meet Kurt at the door. “That's great! But dinner's not ready yet! I decided to make meatballs. I used my grandma's recipe so get ready to...”

He stopped in his tracks.

Kurt was standing, paralyzed, at the door. His clothes were completely soaked, his hair plasted to his skull, and he was shivering. His face had gone terrifyingly pale, and he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” Blaine exclaimed, coming a little closer, not sure what was going on. “Are you okay?”

Kurt's eyes were wide. Today they were a shade of gray that matched the stormy sky outside. They moved until they were focused on Blaine's, the only indication that he had heard him, and then, his lower lip trembling slightly, he burst into tears.

Blaine wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't excpected that at all, and he was starting to freak out. What could have happened to turn Kurt into this sobbing mess right in front of him? He always seemed so strong and put together, and this was... it broke Blaine's heart.

He moved forward and caught him in his arms, his own clothes absorbing the wetness and coldness from Kurt's drenched outfit. He began to rub his back. Everywhere he touched him, he was ice-cold. Kurt clung to him almost desperately, his fingers grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Water was beginning to pool at their feet.

After just a few seconds, though, he pulled away almost abruptly, and looked down. “Oh god, look at the mess. Let me clean it up...”

“Fuck the mess,” Blaine said, cupping his face (cold, cold, cold) with both his hands to make him look at him. He searched for answers, searched for bruises or blood, needing to make sure he was okay, that he wasn't hurt. “What happened?”

Kurt wiped at his tears furiously. He looked so defeated that it shattered Blaine's heart even more. “I... I screwed it up. Everything.”

Blaine caught one of his tears in his thumb as he stroked Kurt's cheekbone gently. “I seriously doubt that. Whatever happened... it'll be alright. And I want you to tell me all about it, and I promise I will help you in any way I can... but Kurt, you're _freezing_. You need to get out of those clothes.”

The shivering had gotten worse, so much so that Blaine could feel his own arms trembling from the force of it. Kurt parted his lips to say something, but the only sound that left him was a quiet whimper. Blaine grabbed his hand and guided him down the short hallway and into the bathroom.

“I'll run you a hot bath. We need to get your temperature back to normal,” he said, kneeling next to the bathtub and turning the faucet to let the warm water begin to fill it. He rummaged in the cabinet under the sink until he found a lavender oil his mother had sent him when he was stressed out over finals last semester. It had done wonders for his nerves. He sprinkled a generous amount in the water.

He turned only to see Kurt was standing against the door, almost as if he needed it to keep himself up. He still looked like he had seen a ghost. Blaine stood up and headed towards him. Kurt's gaze snapped right towards him.

“Hey,” Blaine said softly. He was worried, really worried. “You need help getting out of your clothes?”

Kurt immediately shook his head.

“Okay, then. I'll give you some privacy. Yell if you need anything,” he said, and he couldn't stop himself – he pressed a kiss to Kurt's freezing cheek before he stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.

Blaine returned to the kitchen to check on the food – Kurt would need something warm in his belly after his bath – and then went into his room to change his shirt, which was almost completely soaked. He had no idea what could have happened to make Kurt look like that, and he was starting to freak out. Should he call Mercedes? Or maybe Rachel? Someone who knew him better? He felt clumsy and useless, like his attempts at helping him weren't good enough. Maybe Kurt would feel more comfortable talking to one of his best friends.

But it looked like a phone call from a friend wouldn't be enough to help him tonight. And he didn't want to make Mercedes or Rachel leave the comfort of their homes in the middle of a storm. Blaine would have to be enough.

Kurt padded quietly into the kitchen half an hour later, smelling like lavender and wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater. He looked comfortable but still upset. Blaine looked up from the sauce when he heard him come in.

“A little better?” He asked, and Kurt simply shrugged. “Food's almost done.”

“I'm not very hungry,” Kurt muttered, his gaze fixed in his own feet.

“Hey,” Blaine whispered, and moved closer. “I made you some delicious spaghetti and meatballs. I even used my grandmother's recipe, an Anderson pride. Are you really going to reject it? I bet my cooking's magical powers will make you feel better.”

The corners of Kurt's lips lifted a bit, but it was still far from a smile. “Okay, fine.”

Blaine busied himself finishing up with dinner, glancing back at Kurt every now and then. The despair in his eyes was only growing and growing, until finally Blaine turned to face him once more, leaning against the counter.

“Okay. Tell me what I can do,” he said, hoping he sounded trustworthy and confident. “Anything at all. Should I call the girls for you? Do you need to talk to Adam?”

Kurt ran a hand down his face, which only accentuated the despair even more. “I quit my job.”

Blaine wasn't sure what exactly he believed had happened, but it wasn't this.

Kurt looked sick. “Oh god, I quit my job.”

Blaine was instantly by his side, rubbing his back. “It's okay. It's okay. Just breathe. We're going to eat and we're going to talk, and everything will be fine.”

“How can it be fine?” Kurt asked, turning around and leaving the kitchen to pace around the living room. “What the hell did I do? Just because I had a bad day? Just because everyone thinks I'm a joke? Just because this town keeps proving over and over again how fucking worthless I am...?”

“Hey!” Blaine exclaimed and pointed at him with his wooden spoon like it was a sword. Cooper would have been proud of him for the dramatics of it, he thought. “Don't you dare say those things about yourself. I happen to think you're pretty spectacular.”

Kurt stopped in the middle of the living room and looked at him, deflating. “Well, you're the only one who seems to think that.”

The water almost boiled over so Blaine turned back to this pot to drain the pasta as he said: “Look, I obviously don't know the whole story, so let's eat and you can tell me all about it, alright?”

Kurt sighed tiredly. “Fine, let me help you, at least.”

Soon they were sitting at the small dining table. Blaine watched Kurt twirl his spaghetti around his fork, looking so dejected that he had no idea what to say or do to make things right. He realized it was not his job to fix Kurt's life for him – Kurt was more than capable of doing it himself – but he ached at seeing him like this. The strong, spirited guy he was used to finding every day had left the building.

And then Kurt told him in detail about his day, about the failed audition and the casting director wanting him to leave, about arriving at work only to suffer more abuse from his boss, who had been nothing but awful to him since he had started working there. He told him about his little incident and about his boss' reaction, the way he had spoken to him...

Blaine's fork clattered against his plate when he dropped it, tomato sauce flying everywhere. “He called you _what_?”

Kurt leaned back against his chair. “Don't make me say it again.”

“That's unacceptable, that's...” Blaine couldn't find the words to express how he felt. He couldn't believe Kurt had had to put up with it. “ _Kurt_. I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine. I'm not a doll. I'm not going to break because of one slur,” he replied, and there he was, the strong man Blaine knew and admired, trying to break through the misery. “Did I overreact? I mean, I know what he said was inexcusable, but... I quit, Blaine. What am I going to do? Should I go back and beg for my job back?”

“Kurt Hummel, you will not beg,” Blaine said firmly. “You're so much better than that.”

“Part of me wants to believe I am, but the rest of me has bills to pay,” Kurt chewed thoughtfully on his food. “It just wasn't smart of me to quit like that. Without a plan.”

“Okay, tell me this,” Blaine said, elbows on the table so he could lean a little closer to him. “Forget about bills and stuff like that for just one moment. You don't have to go back to that place ever again, you don't have to deal with that asshole anymore. How does that make you feel?”

Kurt exhaled a heavy breath, and his clear blue eyes fell on Blaine. He still looked terribly defeated. “Honestly? Relieved. I hated it so much.”

“Then that's all you need to know,” Blaine said gently. “I know in the real world there are other things to worry about, but you were miserable there, Kurt. It's okay to put that job behind you. Tonight, let yourself feel relieved. Tomorrow, we come up with a plan.”

Kurt brushed his hair back when it fell limply on his forehead, still wet from his bath. “I just feel... I don't know.” He shook his head. Blaine waited, giving him time to work through his thoughts. “Sometimes I wonder if I should just pack up and go back to Ohio. I used to feel like New York was my destiny, the place where I belonged, but lately? I feel like it's rejecting me. Maybe I need to go home.”

Blaine reached across the table, his hand finding Kurt's and giving it a squeeze. “You _are_ home. This is your home. Just because a bunch of idiots who can't recognize talent when it's sitting right in front of them didn't see all you have to offer, it's not a reason to give up. One day you're going to be on the biggest stage in this town, and you're going to blow everyone away. And those who said no... they'll regret it, Kurt. They'll regret it so much.” He watched the way Kurt's cheeks began to light up in a blush – it was such a contrast from the paleness that Blaine had seen on him when he arrived. “And besides, you're not going to leave me now, are you? Not when I found a roommate I actually love living with?”

Kurt gave him a real smile now, finally, and squeezed his hand back. “I guess it would be selfish of me to leave you.”

“Yes, it would.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, their fingers intertwined, until Blaine realized it had been long enough to make it awkward. He quietly slipped his hand away and grabbed his fork again.

“This is delicious, by the way,” Kurt commented, as he did the same. “Any chance you might want to share your grandma's recipe with me?”

“I would, but then I would have to kill you,” Blaine retorted, trying to keep a straight face. “Or marry you.”

Kurt snorted, amused. They finished eating as they started talking about something else – Blaine wanted to keep Kurt distracted because he was sure he would start freaking out as soon as he began to think too much again. So he told him about his own day, which had been unremarkable in comparison, and did everything he could to make Kurt smile.

His heart clenched painfully as he remembered the way Kurt had burst into tears at the door.

He never wanted to see him so broken again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all still want to hug Kurt, right? Okay.   
> Blaine's an amazing friend (and future husband?) to have when things go wrong, though. He has our boy's back.  
> See you on Thursday!  
> Love,  
> L.-


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday. It feels like this week should have ended three days ago, am I right? Hope it's been a good one for everyone so far.  
> Thank you so much for the lovely comments and another huge THANK YOU to Christine for her support and super beta skills.  
> Reminder that this is the chapter that was supposed to go up on Saturday, so I'll be seeing you again on Wednesday instead. But I have another little treat planned for next week, so hopefully you won't mind!  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from Bad Habit, just like in the last one. It's a direct continuation of Kurt's Very Bad Day.  
> Enjoy!

_'Cause everybody needs a friend, it's true  
_ _Someone to quiet the voices in my head  
Make 'em sing to me instead, it's you_

* * *

When Blaine stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, something felt off. He stood leaning against the breakfast bar, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes and to make his brain function properly, trying to decipher exactly what was wrong. It felt like something fundamental, something vital was missing...

 _Kurt_.

It was the first time since he had moved in that he wasn't in the kitchen when Blaine woke up, making breakfast, the scent of coffee already filling the apartment, making it feel like home. Blaine didn't like this absence, this feeling of emptiness. But he guessed Kurt had had a very, very long day yesterday and he deserved some extra sleep. He hadn't gone to bed until late – they had stayed together on the couch talking, Kurt pouring out every frustration he had felt not only yesterday but before then, and Blaine realized he had been carrying so much on his shoulders, putting a facade for... for whom? Blaine didn't want him to play a character in his own home. He wanted him to feel free to be vulnerable whenever he needed it.

He got the coffee started before he moved into the fridge, peering into it for ideas on what to make for breakfast. Kurt was usually whiping them up something healthy but delicious, and only on special occasions or when they needed a pick-me-up would he make something less healthy and even more delicious. Blaine decided today was a good day for chocolate chip pancakes – nothing like a sugary, chocolatey meal to cheer Kurt up and get his day started the right way.

The coffee was ready and the pancakes were on the plates a few minutes later, but Kurt was still not up. Blaine frowned, now a little worried. Had he got up earlier and left the apartment for some reason? He decided it was best to check, before the food got cold.

Blaine padded down the hallway and stopped at Kurt's bedroom door, knocking softly. There was a barely audible mumble in response, so at least he knew Kurt was home. “Hey Kurt. Breakfast is ready!”

When he got no response to that, Blaine carefully pushed the door opened and looked inside the room. Kurt was still in bed, blankets kicked almost completely to the floor, blinking slowly at the ceiling, his cheeks tinged pink.

“Kurt?” Blaine muttered, taking a few steps into the room.

“Morning,” Kurt said with a rough voice.

“You don't look so good. Are you okay?” Blaine took a seat on the edge of Kurt's bed. He was flushed and sweaty, his soft cotton shirt stuck to his body. Blaine placed a hand on his forehead. It felt clammy and too hot. “I think you have a fever.”

“Stupid storm,” Kurt mumbled, turning his face into the pillow, shivering slightly.

Blaine picked up the blankets from the floor and covered him with them. “Yeah, probably not your wisest moment, walking home in the middle of a storm. It's November. It's almost winter, silly.”

“Thanks for the weather report,” Kurt said miserably, trying and failing to look annoyed at him.

Blaine chuckled. “I'm sorry. Do you have a headache? Sore throat?” Kurt just nodded. “Alright. I'll get you some meds, and something to drink. We need to keep you hydrated. Do you think you can take another bath? I don't want you passing out in the tub, but we have to get your fever down, sweetie.”

“A bath sounds good,” Kurt replied, his nose scrunching up slightly. “I feel disgusting.”

“Okay,” Blaine gave him a quick pat on the knee and stood up to get the bath started.

“Blaine?” Kurt called when he was almost out of the room. He blinked at Blaine sleepily, and Blaine hummed to let him know he had his attention. “Can you put some of that lavender stuff in it, like last night?”

Blaine smirked at him, amused. “Sure can. I'll be right back.”

While the tub began to fill with mostly cold water that would hopefully make Kurt's temperature drop a bit, Blaine rummaged in the medicine cabinet for some cold medicine. He would have to run and get more later, but it would enough to maybe help Kurt with his headache and fever, at least.

Kurt had to reassure him a million times that he was fine to be in the bath alone before Blaine left him to undress and get in the tub – although he did leave the door ajar, promising he wouldn't peak, so he could rush inside in case Kurt needed him. In the meantime, he went into Kurt's bedroom and stripped his bed off, piling up the sweat-soaked sheets and putting clean ones on. He dropped the dirty sheets in the laundry hamper on his way back to the kitchen, where he finally poured himself a cup of coffee and chewed absently on a cold chocolate chip pancake while he thought.

It was probably not a good idea to leave Kurt alone. Between his deplorable emotional state the previous night and how sick he was this morning, Blaine knew he would probably worry about him the entire day if he left him. He had a few students coming in for lessons and a class in the afternoon. As he stood against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee, he texted his students to cancel on them and ask them to reschedule, and then texted Eli.

 **To Eli:** _Hey, I'm not going to be able to make it to class today. Could you take notes and send them to me afterwards?_

He washed the dishes and stuck Kurt's pancakes in the oven to keep them warm in case he was hungry later. He then opened the fridge to check if there were enough ingredients to make some soup. He wondered if Kurt was more of a chicken noodle or vegetable soup kind of guy.

Blaine finished his coffee and stepped into the hallway to check on Kurt. “Everything okay?” He called, not getting close to the door as to respect Kurt's privacy.

“I'm fine,” Kurt called back. “I'm getting out now.”

Blaine wandered back to the kitchen and found Eli had just replied.

 **From Eli:** _Okay._

 _Wow, your concern for me is astounding_ , Blaine thought, rolling his eyes. Eli had never been the caring type, really, so Blaine wasn't truly surprised. He wondered if Eli would ever start behaving like an actual boyfriend, or if Blaine would have to push him in that direction, eventually.

Though, sometimes, Blaine wondered if he even knew how a boyfriend was supposed to behave. He had never been a particularly great one.

Kurt appeared in the kitchen in clean pajamas, his hair still wet and dripping on his neck. Blaine dropped his phone on the counter.

“Hey, hey. What are you doing here?” Blaine asked.

Kurt looked at him like he was insane. “I'm going to make myself a cup of tea?” He said, confused.

“No, you're not,” Blaine replied, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders and gently guiding him down the hallway. “You are going to get into bed and stay there for the rest of the day. I will make your tea, and bring it to you.”

It looked like Kurt wanted to protest, but he was still too weak from the fever to pull it off. He simply sighed, exhausted. “I guess there's no use arguing with you.”

“No, there isn't,” Blaine said with a grin, as he watched Kurt slip into his clean sheets. “I'll be right back. Do you want something to eat, too?”

Kurt nuzzled into his pillow, and Blaine's heart did a weird little jump in his chest. “No, thanks. Maybe later.”

Blaine walked back to the kitchen, bumping his chest with his hand. Maybe the chocolate chip pancakes had given him heartburn.

He filled the kettle with water and hummed a random little song as he waited for it to boil.

* * *

The sky was still a dark grey, but the storm from the day before was in the past. Blaine sat at the piano next to the window, a pen between his teeth as he tickled a few of the keys, thoughtfully, trying to chase the melody in his head before it escaped forever.

He had been writing a lot of little fragments of songs lately, and a lot of pieces of melodies, but hadn't managed to put anything together yet. Nothing seemed connected, but he had the feeling that he had something there that was worth pursuing.

He played a few notes experimentally and then jotted down a few more words, before he glanced up and saw a rumpled-looking Kurt stepping into the living room. He had fallen asleep right after his tea, the fever still too high for him to have any energy to do anything else but sleep, and Blaine had left him. He had made some soup – his favorite was chicken noodle so he went with it and hoped it was the right choice – and then sat down at the piano to kill his unexpected free time.

Blaine shifted on the bench and smiled at Kurt. He looked kind of adorable like this, in pajamas and with his hair all over the place. All his shields were down. “Hey. Feeling better?”

“A little, yeah,” Kurt replied. “The headache's gone, at least.”

Blaine stood up and walked towards him. He pressed his hand to Kurt's forehead and then let it trail down to cup his cheek. Kurt leaned a bit into the touch, his eyes falling shut. “The fever seems to be gone, too.”

Kurt hummed a little in response, but his eyes remained closed.

“Are you hungry?” Blaine asked, his hand falling from Kurt's face. Kurt opened his eyes immediately, and he seemed a little lost. Maybe he still had a bit of a fever. “I made you some soup. I can reheat it and take some to you to your bedroom.”

“I'm not going to eat in my bed like a barbarian who's given up on life,” Kurt protested, nose scrunching up in disgust, before his face went soft again, his lips parting. “Wait. You made me soup?”

“Yeah, I thought it would help,” Blaine said, as he headed into the kitchen. “But if you're not going back to bed, then stay on the couch. You're sick, Kurt. You're allowed to lay down.”

“I have too much to do,” Kurt said, sitting at the breakfast bar, because he was obviously going to be difficult and do the opposite of what Blaine asked him to do. “Too many things to worry about.”

“Nothing you can solve while you're sick, though,” Blaine retorted, as he turned the stove on to reheat the soup. “Don't stress about it now.”

“I need a job, Blaine,” Kurt whined, letting his head fall into his hands.

“Well, are you going to go out and look for one right now?” Blaine said, turning to him with an arched eyebrow.

“Of course not. Smartass,” Kurt muttered, peeking at him between his fingers.

“Then don't stress about it now,” Blaine repeated, because he really was a smartass and he enjoyed it.

Kurt finally agreed to sit at the couch and wait for the soup to be ready, and once it was, Blaine put two bowls, a few slices of bread and two tall glasses of water on a tray and carried it all to the living room. Kurt was sitting sideways, his cheek pressed to the back of the couch and his knees pulled up to his chest, and even though he seemed a bit better, it was obvious he was still sick.

“That smells really good,” Kurt said softly, accepting one of the bowls from Blaine. “Chicken noodle's my favorite.”

Blaine smiled a bit as he sat down next to him.

“What have you been up to while I was dead to the world?” Kurt asked, as he began to eat.

“Oh, nothing special,” Blaine shrugged. “Just pieces of songs that have been stuck in my head for weeks and I haven't found any proper use for yet.”

“Well, if you want, you can play them for me later. You know, if you think that might help,” Kurt said, and Blaine smiled at him again, because most people didn't care enough to sit down and listen to him play like that. He guessed Kurt was only saying it out of politeness, but the sentiment was still nice. “Wait, didn't you have a few students coming in today? How did I sleep through that?”

“Oh, I cancelled,” Blaine said, reaching for a piece of bread. “We'll reschedule.”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt put his bowl down. “Now I feel worse. You didn't have to do that...”

Blaine waved away Kurt's concern with his spoon. He almost sent broth flying everywhere. “Kurt, it's nothing. You needed to sleep and I didn't want to disturb you.”

“But... your work,” Kurt protested weakly. “I don't want to impose. I don't want to be a burden, or...”

Blaine put his hand on Kurt's knee and gave it a firm squeeze, leaning a little closer to look him right in the eyes and make sure he listened as he said: “Kurt. You could never be a burden. You're my friend and I wanted to take care of you. I don't care if I have to cancel on my students or miss class or anything. I wanted to. It's okay.”

Kurt let his head fall onto the back of the couch again. His eyes were bright, and Blaine wasn't sure if it was because of the fever or for a whole different reason. There was a sad little smile tugging at his lips. “You know, I think you might be the best thing New York's ever given me.”

Warmth travelled all over Blaine, and it had nothing to do with the soup. He smiled back, his own a bit more genuine and a lot less sad. “So your crazy plan of returning to Ohio is off the table?”

Kurt chuckled, the sound a little hoarse from his sore throat. “Yeah, it's off the table. For now, at least.”

“Forever,” Blaine insisted.

Kurt sighed heavily, his blue eyes fixed on Blaine, and finally nodded. “Forever,” he agreed.

For some reason, that word had never held so many promises before.

* * *

Once they were done eating, Blaine moved back to the kitchen to clean up, after arguing with Kurt, who wanted to get up and help. He was still feeling a bit weak, so it wasn't a difficult argument for Blaine to win. Then he returned to the living room, where he found Kurt sprawled on the couch.

He laughed a little and leaned over the back of the couch to look down at him. “Why don't you go back to bed?”

“Don't want to,” he said stubbornly.

Blaine had to hide his smile. “You're really difficult when you're sick, aren't you?” He teased.

“Shut up,” Kurt whined, but there was no heat in his voice. He peeked up at Blaine, sheepishly. “Want to watch a movie with me?”

“Sure,” Blaine replied without a second's hesitation. “What do you want to watch?”

“I've always liked watching The Sound of Music when I'm sick,” Kurt replied quietly. “My mom always watched it with me when I was little.”

That sensation in Blaine's chest was back, and he wasn't sure he could attribute it to heartburn again. Instead, he simply said, in a soft voice: “That sounds like the perfect comfort movie.”

Kurt owned it on DVD, so Blaine searched on the shelves for a moment until he found it. In the short months they had lived together, somehow their stuff had become inevitably intertwined, and sometimes Blaine had trouble remembering what had been there before Kurt's arrival, what had been his, and what was new. Sam had always been a great roommate – and one of the best friends Blaine had ever had – but there was something about Kurt, about the way they fit together, the way they worked together as roommates and friends, that filled Blaine with something aching to peace and belonging.

Once he had popped the DVD into the player, he turned to the couch. Kurt was trying to sit up to make room for him.

“Hold on,” Blaine muttered, and Kurt stilled. He helped Kurt rise enough for him to sit on one end of the couch comfortably. He reached for a cushion and placed it on his lap. “Come on, lie back down.”

Kurt paused for a moment, but then slowly lowered himself until his head was resting on Blaine's lap, his body curled sideways to face the TV. Blaine reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and carefully covered Kurt with it, to make sure he wouldn't be cold. Then he grabbed the remote.

“Ready?” He asked, and felt more than saw Kurt nodding.

They weren't even halfway through the movie when Kurt drifted off to sleep. Blaine didn't notice at first, but the fact that Kurt had stopped humming along with the songs was enough indication that he was out for the count. Blaine smiled down at him for a moment and began to run his fingers through Kurt's thick chestnut hair.

He finished watching the movie by himself, but he didn't really mind.

* * *

The following day, Kurt woke up feeling a lot better. He still had an annoying cold that left his nose all red and a bit of a sore throat but the fever and the headaches were finally gone. Blaine had been right – he was a difficult person when he was sick, not only to others, but to himself, so he was glad that the worst was over.

The only problem with feeling better was that he realized that, for the first time in a long, long time, he had nowhere to be and nothing to do.

He had no scheduled auditions. He didn't have a job. His boyfriend was still all the way across the Atlantic. He had no plans.

It was terrifying, really, to feel so adrift, to suddenly have no purpose. Things hadn't been going his way for a while now, but now he was truly, truly lost. And despite having reassured Blaine that he wasn't planning on moving back home to Ohio, part of him wanted to run. He wanted to knock on his father's front door and ask him to take him back, to shield him from all the disappointments he had come upon.

He realized it wasn't the only place he could run to. That afternoon, while he hid in his room to give Blaine privacy while he was in the living room with one of his piano students, he stared at his cellphone, Adam's number pulled up on the screen. But he couldn't make himself call him. He couldn't call his suddenly unavailable and successful boyfriend and tell him about all the things that had gone wrong.

What would he do in London, even if he followed his boyfriend there? Would he be a waiter in a whole new country while Adam performed on stage every night? If Broadway had no place for him, what made him think the West End did?

He let the phone fall on his bed. If he had to be honest with himself, Adam was the last person he wanted to talk to.

Kurt didn't allow himself to think to much about why that might be so.

Instead, he got up and walked towards his desk. He turned his laptop on and sat down, pulling up his resumé as soon as the computer finished loading. There were some accomplishments in it that he had always been proud of and that he thought would set him apart, but clearly something was wrong with it if two years after graduating NYADA he had landed absolutely no jobs aside from the one at the restaurant.

Or maybe his resumé wasn't the problem. Maybe _he_ was the problem.

God, he really hated being so whiny and pathetic. He wished he could just build himself back up as easily as he did when he was a kid getting bullied and ridiculed every single day of his life. But he had been doing that for so long, that it became tiring.

It wasn't supposed to happen to him anymore. Things were supposed to get better as you grew up.

He wasn't supposed to want to run to _Ohio_ when he could have New York.

He spent the next hour browsing through job opportunities, until Blaine knocked on his bedroom door and peeked inside with a little smile.

“Hey, she just left, so it's safe for you to leave your room now,” he said. When Kurt's only reply was to groan and drop his head onto his desk, he frowned. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kurt answered quickly. “Well. Everything. But I'll figure it out.”

Blaine came into the room and glanced at his computer screen. “Looking for a job?”

“Yes. Do you think I'm too old to work at McDonald's?” He straightened up and looked at Blaine. “How does this sound?” He cleared his throat and then added, in an extremely cheerful voice: “Do you want fries with that?”

Blaine snorted. “I see I arrived just in time for a pity party. And there's nothing wrong with working at McDonald's at any age. But you're Kurt Hummel,” he said, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders and giving them a firm squeeze. “You should dream bigger.”

“Been there, done that,” Kurt deadpanned. “It's worked perfectly, as you can see.”

“Oh stop it,” Blaine said, making him spin on his chair to face him. He sat on the edge of Kurt's bed and leaned towards him. “You're being ridiculous. I get it that nothing's gone the way you hoped it would be. But most of the people we end up admiring have to struggle for a long time, every door banging in their faces, before they truly make it. You didn't think you would get it so easily, did you? The best stuff in life comes after some struggle.”

Kurt scoffed. “God, how do you manage to be so irritating and uplifting at the same time?” He said, and Blaine laughed, which said a lot about their dynamic. Most people would be offended by half the things that came out of Kurt's mouth, but Blaine just _got_ him, his humor, his dry wit. It was refreshing, really. “I know you're right. I really do. But I've been struggling for so long, that it makes me wonder if it's even worth it. Maybe not every struggle ends up in reward. Maybe sometimes there's just... nothing. Nothing waiting for you at the end.”

Blaine let himself fall back on Kurt's bed and stared up at the ceiling as he threw his arm behind his head in despair. “That's some depressing bullshit, Kurt.”

“Maybe I'm just too different,” Kurt said, and Blaine leaned up on his elbows to look at him again. “Maybe there's no place for me to fit in. I just really wanted New York to be the place where I would be appreciated.”

“Okay, can I tell you something?” Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded. When Blaine spoke again, his voice was soft and sincere in a way that made Kurt's insides tight with... something. Something he couldn't quite identify. “When I heard you sing for the first time, you blew my mind. You were singing in the shower and I just stood in the middle of the apartment feeling like I was in some sort of dream. You are... Kurt, you're magical. You're perfect. And when I heard you... all I could think was how I would write a million musicals, just for you, if I could.”

Kurt's breath hitched slightly. No one had ever said something like that to him. He felt on the verge of tears. “That's... _Blaine_.”

“So I know you feel like giving up,” Blaine continued before Kurt could find the words to express how he felt. “But I feel like the world would be such a dark place if we lost something as bright as your voice, as your talent. So what if no one's been smart enough to appreciate it yet? Someone will. But you have to give them a chance to find you. Don't give up.” He sat up, shifted so he was closer, and put his hand on Kurt's forearm. “Let me help you. I can help you rehearse for your auditions. We'll work together, try to find if there's anything you need to change. We'll practice your lines. We'll look for the perfect auditions for you, the right parts. But please... just, don't give up, okay?”

Kurt tried very hard to swallow the lump in his throat. “I think I get it now.”

Blaine's eyes, almost golden in the sunlight streaming through the window, were full of curiosity. “What?”

“The best things in life come after some struggles,” Kurt repeated. “I may not have found stardom, but I found you. And I think your friendship is a much better reward anyway.”

Blaine's smile was so bright, Kurt couldn't look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, these idiots falling in love without realizing it...  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had so much fun writing their relationship in this fic.  
> I will see you again on Wednesday. Thanks for the patience!  
> Have a great week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!  
> I'm back with a new chapter and our regular schedule ♥  
> Thank you so much for all the love and nice comments on the last chapter. I'm enjoying sharing this story with you guys so much!  
> Shoutout to my girl, Christine. As I always say, she's the best beta in the fandom. And a fantastic friend!  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from Grow as we go. Gorgeous, gorgeous song.  
> Enjoy!

_When you're high, I'll take the lows  
You can ebb and I can flow  
And we'll take it slow  
And grow as we go  
Grow as we go_

* * *

Every evening, before dinner, unless they had other plans, Kurt and Blaine sat together at the piano, going through sheet music and trying to select the best songs to highlight all of Kurt's vocal abilities. Blaine was patient and encouraging, always finding something positive to say, something that would keep Kurt motivated. And in return, Kurt became even more determined, fiercely so. He wasn't afraid to take constructive criticism and he didn't mind doing the same song over and over again until he nailed it, Blaine clapping for him from the piano bench. They made a pretty good team.

It quickly became the favorite part of their day, even if neither said it out loud.

* * *

Kurt carefully pushed through the crowd, drinks safely raised before him. He made it to their table without spilling a single drop, and then sat next to Rachel, glancing up at the stage where Blaine was finishing his cover of Maroon 5's Misery, or at least a rather toned down, piano version of it that sounded so much better than the original, if you asked Kurt. He joined the wave of applause before he turned to Rachel, who was grinning at him.

“Oh Kurt, he's dreamy,” she said with a little squeal. “You're completely sure he's gay, right?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I don't know, we may have to ask the guy he brings over at least once a week. Maybe they're playing bingo in his room. Clearly they're really good at it, because they're _very enthusiastic_ when they win.”

Santana snorted. “I bet that really makes you miss Mr. Bean, huh? Though I always saw you two as some sort of amorphous sexless entity, to be honest. You didn't seem to have much chemistry.”

Rachel reached past Kurt and slapped Santana's shoulder. “Be nice to Kurt! It can't be easy having the love of your life all the way across the ocean! And I'm sure they had a great sex life together. They're both so handsome.”

Kurt downed the rest of his drink in one long gulp. “Can we talk about anything else?”

Thinking about Adam... not what Kurt wanted to be doing tonight.

It was as if Blaine had a sensor for when Kurt needed rescuing, because he began talking into his microphone and his friends' attention was suddenly turned to the stage.

“Well, we're halfway through November already, so you guys know what that means,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and then played the first few chords to Jingle Bells. “It's time to get into that Christmas spirit,” he added seductively, and some people laughed. “So I thought I would sing one of my favorite Christmas songs, if I can get a little help.”

He began to scan the crowd, shielding his eyes from the light that illuminated the stage, and grinned widely when he found his friends' table.

“Oh, there you are!” He exclaimed. “I would like to ask the amazing Kurt Hummel to join me on the stage, please.”

Kurt blinked stupidly as Santana laughed and Rachel tried to push him out of the booth. Sam had to stand up and get him on his feet, sending him on his way with a pat on his back.

Blaine was still talking on the microphone. “Kurt is my friend and roommate, and I promise you all: as soon as you hear him sing, you will fall in love with his voice. And don't forget his name, guys. It's going to be shining all over Broadway before you know it.”

Blaine stood from the piano to help Kurt onto the stage, which was the perfect opportunity to glare at him.

“What the hell are you doing? We didn't practice,” Kurt muttered under his breath, only loud enough for Blaine to hear.

“We practice every day,” Blaine said, clearly unconcerned. “Consider this part of our plan to get you ready for your auditions. You need to be willing to perform in front of as many people as you can, even when you don't expect it.”

Kurt took a deep breath. He knew Blaine was right. And it always felt so nice to get to perform. He hadn't had an audience in a very long time.

“Okay,” he whispered, a little nervously. “What are we going to sing? What if I don't know the lyrics?”

“Oh trust me,” Blaine said, as he sat at the piano, and pulled on Kurt's arm to get him to sit next to him so they could share the microphone. “You'll know it.”

And just like that, he began to play the intro to _Baby, it's cold outside_.

Kurt laughed – this was probably not only one of the most renowned Christmas duets, but also one of the most heterosexual songs in the world. Blaine was a ballsy little thing. He loved that.

He heard a catcall from the audience – probably Sam or Santana – just as Blaine looked at him, telling him without words to start.

“ _I really can't stay_...”

It was so fun to do this, to sing without the pressure, knowing he wasn't putting it all on the line during an audition. He realized he had stopped enjoying performing – he only did it as a means to get a job, or only sung unconsciously when he was in the shower. But this... this was just being silly with Blaine on a stage, being cheered on by his friends and a few dozen strangers. It was perfect. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he had smiled this big.

The applause was thunderous when they were done, and Blaine got to his feet and grabbed his hand to make him stand up, pulling him to the middle of the stage before stepping aside to join everyone else in their applause. Kurt felt his cheeks reddening and laughed, pressing his fingers to his lips as if trying to hide the gigantic grin, as if trying to hold the happiness inside in case it tried to escape.

He turned to look at Blaine – his hazel eyes were sparkling in the spotlight – and mouthed a quiet _thank you_ , before he slipped off the stage and let him continue with his set.

He hadn't felt this alive in a long, long time.

* * *

The campus cafeteria was as good a place as any to kill time before his class. Blaine had taken over a little table in the corner and was catching up on some reading while absentmindedly eating some lunch. He popped a french fry into his mouth and reread the same line for the tenth time.

He sighed. He wouldn't be able to avoid it, and it was better to do it sooner rather than later. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on his class if he didn't do this now – it had already become the only thing he could think about since he had gotten out of bed that morning.

Blaine sat up straighter, as if it was enough to steel himself, and dialed the number.

The call was picked up on the second ring, the voice crisp and businesslike. “Hello, this is William Anderson speaking.”

Blaine swallowed. Had his father not checked his caller ID or had he not even bothered saving his son's contact information at all? “Hey dad, it's Blaine,” he said, hoping he sounded a lot more confident and relaxed than he felt. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, thank you. You caught me on a way to a meeting, so we need to keep this brief,” his father replied, his tone unchanged. “You sound a little winded. Where are you?”

Blaine forced himself to breathe in and out through his nose, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “I'm at the cafeteria, grabbing some lunch before my class. How are you? How's work?”

There was a pause and his father seemed to be speaking from far away. It took a moment for Blaine to realize he had pulled the phone away and was talking to someone else on his end. He waited as patiently as he could.

“Everything's fine. Busy, of course,” William said at last, when his attention returned somewhat to his son. “How are your classes? Are you getting good grades?”

Blaine felt like he had always felt when he was a young boy, bringing his father exams so he could see his great grades. He particularly remembered getting an B+ on a Chemistry exam, a class he had always struggled in and that he had studied very hard for, and rushing proudly into his father's office only to receive an arched eyebrow in return, as well as the words: “That's it? You couldn't do better?”

He had never shown him anything but A+ since then.

“Oh yeah, I try,” Blaine replied softly.

“Well, if trying is the best you can do...” William muttered, before once again being distracted by someone on his end.

Blaine gladly took this as an excuse to end the phone call a lot sooner than expected. His chest had begun to feel just a little tight. “Well, I don't want to keep you if you're busy. I guess I'll see you on Christmas? I haven't talked to Cooper and Mom about our plans yet, but... I'll be in Ohio, so.”

“I'm not sure about Christmas,” William muttered, halfheartedly. There was a rustling of papers on his end, and Blaine could picture him paging through a file. “I have to travel to New York for a case, so I might not make it back in time for the holidays.”

“Oh,” Blaine was shocked. “You'll be here? Well, if you want to meet for lunch or something before I go to Ohio...”

“Yeah, I don't think so, Blaine,” William said. He didn't sound malicious, but simply uninterested. Blaine wasn't sure what was worst. “I'll be pretty swamped while I'm there. Big clients. Can't let anything distract me.”

 _Not even your own son, who you haven't seen in like two years?_ Blaine thought, but didn't say. “It's okay,” he murmured instead, quietly. “I understand.”

His father didn't say anything else, and Blaine wasn't even sure he remembered he was on the phone with him anymore.

“I hope you have a nice birthday, then. Bye, dad.”

“Goodbye.”

The phone call ended almost as abruptly as it had started, and Blaine found himself sitting in the middle of the cafeteria, surrounded by people laughing and talking and yet the only sound he could hear was the silence in his ear where his phone was still pressed. He lowered it slowly and looked down at his half-eaten lunch. His burger was probably cold by now, but he didn't care. He wasn't hungry anymore.

He walked to class feeling as if there was a large, grey cloud hanging over his head. He knew that if it had been Cooper who called him, his father would have delayed his meeting to talk to him, even if he wouldn't have shown him any warmth. It was just not his style. But he would have listened. And he would have talked to him, asked Cooper how he was and what he was up to.

Blaine wasn't sure why he wasn't worth his father's time, but he had asked himself the same a million times, and he was no closer to getting an answer. Or at least a valid one.

He slipped into his usual seat and only a few moments later, Eli was dropping next to him, looking carefully rumpled as he usually did.

“What's with that face?” He asked as way of greeting.

Blaine sighed tiredly. “Oh, I just... it's my dad's birthday. I called him. I don't know why I bother trying to show him I care about him. I don't know why he won't treat me like I'm his son. Is that really too much to ask?”

If he was looking for comfort, or even a smidge of sympathy, it looked like he was getting none today. Or at least, none from Eli. He looked at Blaine like he was a child who couldn't understand the simplest of concepts and he was getting sick of explaining them to him.

“Blaine, come on, you know how he is. Do you really expect anything better from him? Just get over it.”

 _Just get over it_. The way his father was over his own son? Why was it so easy for people to dismiss him, to dismiss his feelings? He felt so small, so insignificant. He opened his mouth to tell Eli that he could at least pretend to care a little, but Eli had pulled his phone out and was texting someone, fingers moving quickly over the screen.

Blaine slumped in his seat and waited for class to start.

* * *

There were days when Kurt felt like a stranger in his own life, his own skin, his own room. He would sit and look around and find that he couldn't recognize exactly what he had become or when it had all changed around him.

It had started happening some time after he graduated NYADA and nothing had gone according to plan. The longer he chased his dreams, the further away they went. Sometimes he could graze them with the tip of his fingers, but they moved away, hurrying off in a different direction every time.

But Kurt had been stubborn, had continued chasing them, had kept himself busy. It wasn't until he found himself unemployed and with a lot more time on his hands than he was used to that he realized it wasn't only his job, his career that had been completely out of reach, becoming more and more strange to him as days went by.

He looked at his computer screen, where Adam was telling him about going out to dinner with some of his cast mates the previous night and realized he couldn't recognize the boy he had fallen in love with. There was a huge smile on Adam's face as he talked, and he always looked happy when they talked. The distance didn't seem to bother him all that much, and if Kurt was being perfectly honest, it wasn't bothering him that much either, at least not anymore.

What Santana had said the other day at the bar had stayed with him – _I bet that really makes you miss Mr. Bean, huh?_ – because when he lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling and feeling insecure about his future, the last thing on his mind was his boyfriend.

At some point he had stopped missing him, and he wasn't even sure when that had happened.

He hadn't even told Adam about what had happened at the restaurant. They rarely talked about him – Adam's life was so much more exciting and they had such limited time to talk to each other, that by the time Adam finished telling him all about his adventures in stardom, there wasn't much Kurt could say before they had to end their call. He knew it wasn't an excuse – if he had shown any interest in telling Adam about his life, Adam would have listened. But it was easier to hear about his successes when he didn't have to share his own failures.

“Oh, wait I forgot to tell you what Melissa did at the stage door last night!” Adam exclaimed then, leaning closer to the computer in his excitement.

“Are you planning to ever return to New York?” Kurt asked instead, surprising even himself with the abrupt change of subject.

Adam straightened up in his seat, his face going serious. “Kurt...”

“Because I really do love listening to your wonderful stories, and you know I'm so happy for you, and so proud of you, Adam,” Kurt continued, before he lost his momentum. “But every time we talk it sounds more and more like you're building an actual life there. Without me.” He looked down at the keyboard instead of Adam's handsome, confused face. “And you haven't even mentioned once coming back to the states. The holidays are coming up and you haven't brought it up. And why would you come back, really? Your entire family's there.”

“Kurt, you know I miss you...” Adam began to say, but Kurt cut him off again.

“And I can't afford the trip, either. I... there's been so much going on here that you don't even know about. We haven't shared a life together, as a proper couple, in so, so long, and I've been wondering lately if we ever will again,” Kurt licked his lips. His whole mouth suddenly felt so dry.

Adam frowned. “What is it that I don't know? And why aren't you telling me?”

“Because what's the point, Adam?” Kurt said, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “By the time I can get a hold of you, there's not even a point in telling you anything. And sometimes you look so damn happy, that I don't want to bother you with whatever is going on in my own life, because it's been far from perfect lately...”

“But Kurt, I want to know about your life...” Adam said, starting to sound frustrated as well. “Why won't you tell me?”

“Because you stopped being the person I go to when I need to talk!” Kurt exclaimed, in a louder voice than he planned to. He saw Adam flinch away from the computer. “It's not even practical to talk to you anymore. You're not here, Adam. You're not a part of my life anymore.”

There was a stretch of silence that seemed to last forever, until Adam finally nodded and asked, quietly: “Is that really how you feel? That I'm not part of your life anymore?”

Kurt ran a hand down his face. “Can you blame me for feeling that way? I'm lucky if I can get you online for an hour once a week, and we haven't talked about our future in a very long time. Since you left, basically. And every time I talk to you, it sounds like you feel so at home there that you'll never come back.”

“Okay,” Adam moved a little closer to the camara, and he had that look of determination on his face that Kurt had seen him wear before tests and auditions. “Okay, how about this? What if I get you a plane ticket so you can come visit me during Christmas? You can see the show and meet my family, and see my place and... and if you like it, maybe... I don't know, we can start talking about you maybe coming here? Move to London with me?”

“What would I do in London?” Kurt said tiredly. “And my whole family is here. I barely get to see them and I'm only a few hours away. I don't want to be so far away from my parents.” He took a deep breath. Now that he had started talking, he felt like he had to be completely honest. “And Adam... I have to say... maybe I would have considered it a few months ago. Maybe I would have liked the idea, but I don't anymore.”

“Why not?” Adam asked, a little desperately.

“Because I don't think I even miss you anymore,” Kurt replied, and he hated the flash of hurt on Adam's face.

“Kurt...” Adam said breathlessly.

“I'm sorry,” Kurt muttered, feeling the tears hot down his face. “I'm sorry. I know that's an awful thing to say, but... I'm just...”

It was Adam who interrupted him now. His voice was barely controlled, and Kurt could see he was on the edge of tears, too. “Do you still love me?”

Kurt parted his lips to reply, and realized he had no idea what to say. Adam's eyes darkened, and he nodded to himself.

“I guess there's nothing else to say...”

“Adam, wait...” Kurt muttered. Four years of his life with this man, and they couldn't end like this. “I'm sorry. Can we...?”

“I don't think there's a _we_ anymore, Kurt,” Adam said, and then the call was disconnected.

* * *

The apartment was quiet and dark when Blaine got home later that day. He still felt the weight on his shoulders from everything – his father, Eli's reaction, his own feeling of insignificance. He dropped his coat and bag by the front door, not having the energy to hang them properly, and headed into the kitchen to grab a beer.

He was heading towards the piano – his head and his soul needed the melodies, the sensation of the keys under his fingertips – when he realized the apartment shouldn't have been so deserted. Instead, he walked down the hallway and stopped at Kurt's room.

The door was open, and the room was only illuminated by the lights coming from New York City through the window. Kurt was laying on his bed on top of the covers, completely dressed and staring at the ceiling.

Blaine didn't want to startle him, so he knocked softly to get his attention.

Kurt quickly wiped at his face before turning his head to look at him. “Hey. Sorry. I didn't hear you come home.”

Blaine let out a little sigh and stepped into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, left his beer on the nightstand and said: “Come on. Scooch over.”

Kurt obeyed without protesting, and soon they were lying side by side in the near darkness. Except for the faint noise of traffic down in the street, all Blaine could hear was Kurt's breathing.

Kurt tilted his head slightly, almost pressing his face to Blaine's shoulder, and whispered: “Bad day?” Blaine only nodded in response, and Kurt hummed sympathetically. “Me too. Wanna go first?”

Blaine still remembered the bitter taste in his mouth after he had tried talking to Eli earlier. He didn't think he could open up again so soon – what if Kurt also thought he was being stupid? Kurt had the most wonderful father in the world, from what he had told him. He wouldn't understand.

“No, you go first,” he said. He needed a little time and he really wanted to know what was wrong with Kurt. Maybe if he could make his day better, Blaine would stop feeling sorry for himself.

For a moment he thought maybe Kurt hadn't heard him, because he stayed silent. They looked up at the ceiling – it was currently illuminated in blues and reds, reflections from some police car going down the street, and it was a pretty distraction, at least until it sped away.

“Adam and I broke up,” Kurt finally said.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine muttered softly. He raised his arm, a wordless invitation for Kurt to move closer to his side, and when Kurt did, he wrapped it around him, pulling him tightly against him. “I'm so sorry. What happened?”

“The distance was too much, I couldn't...” Kurt pressed his face into his shoulder for a moment, and then shook his head. “I don't know. I asked him if he was planning to come back and then we started talking and I realized...”

When Kurt paused again, as if searching for the right words, Blaine began to rub his hand up and down his back. “It's okay. Take your time.”

“He asked me if I still loved him and I couldn't say anything,” Kurt muttered into Blaine's sweater. “I never told him about the restaurant or about how much I was struggling with my auditions. Whenever I had a bad day and I needed him, it was so hard to find time to call him, to fit our schedules together, that I stopped trying. And I realized that I didn't really need him, not really. And he didn't seem to need me either, you know? He's so happy there. And he was upset today, I could see that, but I think it's mostly because it took him by surprise.”

Blaine remained silent, realizing Kurt didn't need him to ask questions – he just needed to talk freely, to get this weight off his chest. So he held him and waited.

“Adam was my first boyfriend,” Kurt murmured eventually, in such a quiet voice Blaine almost didn't hear him. “When I got to New York, I was so busy trying to figure out what to do with my life that I didn't even care about my love life, because everything else was already up in the air, and it just wasn't something I could deal with. But then I got into NYADA and in my first week there, I met him. He was... very obvious in his interest for me, and I couldn't believe this cute, talented, older guy wanted _me_. He could have anyone else, you know? But he pursued me. And I went out with him and realized he was really nice, and soon one thing led to another and we were together, and it really was wonderful.”

Kurt paused again and Blaine wondered if he was seeing it all before his eyes – the moment they had met, the way Adam had looked at him for the first time. So many memories with the potential to become painful now.

Kurt sighed, borrowing a little more into Blaine's side. “But I think that, somewhere along the way, I fell more in love with the way he loved me, than with him. It just felt good to have someone, after being by myself for so long. And then he got that part in London and he left... and I missed him, of course I did. But I'm not hearbroken about him being gone, not like I should be. And he hasn't made it a priority to come back and see me whenever he can, just like I haven't made it a priority to save money for a plane ticket to go see him. I don't know... it all feels like it should be _more_ , you know? Like love should be more.”

He fell silent and Blaine turned his head to look at him. It was still dark, but they were so close that it wasn't hard to find the spark of Kurt's blue eyes. It was obvious he had been crying, and he looked tired. It had been a very long day for both of them, a couple of really long weeks for Kurt, as well.

“It feels like the ground that I thought was steady under my feet is suddenly shaking non-stop,” Kurt murmured with a sad smile. “Nothing in my life is steady right now.”

“It will be,” Blaine reassured him. His hand stopped stroking his back, and he instead let his fingers slip into Kurt's hair. “It's just a rough patch. A really rough patch, in your case. It's like everything happened all at once and you haven't really caught your breath yet.”

“That's exactly what it feels like,” Kurt nodded, a little surprised. “But at the same time... I don't know. There wasn't much I liked about my life, really. I never wanted to be a waiter. I never wanted a long-distance relationship. I just let those things happen because I needed the money, or because Adam had an opportunity that was too good to pass up. But I don't want to settle.”

“You're too good to settle,” Blaine said, earning a little smile. “I'm serious. Don't settle, Kurt. You deserve the best.”

Kurt threw his arm over Blaine's body and scooted a little closer, effectively cuddling him. “How do you always make me feel better? Are you a magical creature?”

Blaine snorted. “Not that I'm aware of.” He heard Kurt sighing against his chest. “Are you okay? I know it's a stupid question after what you just told me, but...”

“Yeah, I think I am. Or I will be, soon. It was the right decision. Both of us would have ended up being miserable if this went on much longer,” Kurt replied, after considering it for a moment. “I know he's happy there. He suggested I move to London and I... can't. Couldn't. That's not what I want.”

“It's a brave thing to do, you know?” Blaine said. “To give something up because it's the right thing. It can be scary to let go when you had it for so long. Sometimes it's easier to settle, to hold onto what we think it's more comfortable. But you're braver than most.”

He could feel Kurt's smile against his sweater.

“Well, enough about me,” Kurt said eventually. “What's up with you? Why was it a bad day?”

Blaine groaned and sat up slightly, only enough to grab his beer and take a good sip, before he plopped back down. “It's stupid.”

“I'm sure it's not,” Kurt said, poking his side. “Come on. You can tell me anything.”

“You just broke up with your boyfriend, Kurt. The last thing you need is to hear about my daddy issues,” Blaine retorted, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling. “You really don't...”

Kurt moved to hover a bit over him and covered Blaine's mouth with his hand to silence him. “Hey. Why are you so hard on yourself? You make it sound like whatever's wrong is not worth talking about. You're so worth it, Blaine. I hope you know that.”

Blaine could feel his own face softening at Kurt's words. Kurt removed his hand and Blaine smiled up at him.

“Ready to tell me now?” Kurt asked, and Blaine nodded. “Okay, let's switch, then.”

Kurt dropped back down onto the bed and opened his arms in invitation. Blaine chuckled as he turned on his side and let his head rest on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt immediately wrapped him up, almost craddling him closer. He couldn't remember the last time someone had held him like this, and the realization made him feel terribly lonely.

“It is kind of a long story,” Blaine started, closing his eyes. Kurt smelled really good – he always did – like some kind of exotic flower and something else, something masculine and perfect that made him want to inhale deeply. “I think I mentioned that I have an older brother?”

“Cooper, yeah,” Kurt nodded, his chin brushing against the top of Blaine's head.

“Well, he's much older. Twelve years, to be exact,” Blaine explained. It wasn't the time to tell Kurt about how the age difference had created such a distance between them that it had taken almost two decades for them to finally get past it and become real brothers, to move past the anger and the resentment and the jealousy. That would have to be a story for another time. “My dad really wanted a son and he got one in his very first try, so when my mom got pregnant with me, he wasn't exactly all that excited. He thought they were too old to do it all over again, but well. I was on the way, not much he could do about it anymore.”

Kurt began to rub circles on the small of his back. It felt amazing and Blaine let it distract him for a moment.

“Cooper has all these great stories of how dad took him to games or taught him how to shave and stuff like that. So that means he knew how to be a father. He just didn't want to make the effort with me,” Blaine continued, eyes still closed, focusing on Kurt's touch and scent. “He was always too busy to play with me. I don't remember ever getting a hug from him or a kiss goodnight. He wouldn't read me bedtime stories. And it all got worse the older I got, especially when I came out.”

Kurt's voice shook a little when he asked: “He didn't accept you?”

Blaine hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “I don't think he cared enough about me to accept me or not. He's indifferent, mostly. I think he believes he hit some sort of jackpot with Cooper, so what's the point bothering with his younger, queer son who keeps finding reasons to disappoint him?”

“ _Nothing_ you do is disappointing,” Kurt said fiercely, arms tightening around him. “You're amazing. If he's too blind to see it, then screw him.”

“You sound like my mom,” Blaine chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. “They got a divorce when I was finishing high school. He was upset because I wanted to study music instead of something _reliable_. She told him that if he couldn't be supportive for once in his life, then he was welcome to leave the house and never come back.”

“I think I like your mom,” Kurt whispered warmly.

“I think I like her, too,” Blaine whispered back.

He allowed himself a pause, just to enjoy the moment of quietness, the sensation of being held and accepted without excuses. Kurt didn't push him to say more. He just kept rubbing his back, and waited.

“The ridiculous thing about all of this is... I can't help but want him to accept me just as I am,” Blaine said, sighing. “And that just means I keep setting myself up for disappointment. Because it doesn't matter what I do, he's been hell bent on not giving a shit about me since before I was born. So of course everything I do is disappointing – just learning I was on the way was a disappointment for him. He wanted the one son he could do everything perfectly with, his perfect heir, and then focus on his career. And the funny thing is that when Cooper finally got his head out of his ass, he turned on him and had my back. And you would think that at least that should have made him stop and think and come to his senses. But no. He lost his favorite son and he kept going with his life as if nothing at all had happened.”

“I'm so sorry, honey,” Kurt murmured. “It must have been a really sad way to grow up.”

“It's not like I had a bad childhood,” Blaine insisted, because he didn't want Kurt to feel pity for him. “My mom was amazing. My dad didn't deal with me emotionally, but if I ever needed anything, he would get it for me. It's just that sometimes I wanted a hug and not something he could buy. Like... this apartment, for example. My mom gave him so much shit about him being so distant and difficult, about him always making me jump through hoops, making me feel like I wasn't enough... so I when I got into NYU he emailed me and told me he got this apartment for me, and that rent was taken care of for as long as I was in college.” He shook his head minutely. “I don't want to sound ungrateful. He made sure I had a place to live. But I wish he had come to my graduation. I wish he asked me how I'm doing. I wish he asked me anything at all.” He finally opened his eyes and glanced up at Kurt. “Was that too crazy of me to ask?”

“Of course not,” Kurt scoffed, clearly offended on his behalf. “You wanted a dad, not a walking check book. He should have been more supportive. He should have been there for you, show you how proud he was of your accomplishments.”

Blaine felt a little tug in his chest. That was exactly what he had always wanted. He had tried explaining it to people – Cooper, his mother, even Eli – but no one had understood, not really. Cooper told him to take whatever his father was willing to give him, his mother often tried to play mediator, and Eli just brushed it off every time he brought it up. But Kurt... Kurt got him in a way no one else ever had.

“So what made today such a bad day?” Kurt asked, after a few seconds. “Did something happen?”

“It's his birthday today,” Blaine replied. “I called him. He was... I don't know. Cold, distant. The usual, really. But I asked him about his plans for the holidays, and he won't be in Ohio. He'll be here. I offered to meet him for lunch before I leave, and he said no.”

“Oh, honey,” Kurt mumbled, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “That's just... despicable.”

“I should be used to it by now...”

“No,” Kurt cut him off abruptly. “He's your dad. It's his job to be there for you. Don't excuse him. That was a shitty thing. Don't ever feel like you have to make excuses for him, or that what he does makes sense. Want me to tell you something my dad said to me when I was in high school?”

Hesitantly, Blaine only nodded.

“He told me that my job is to be myself and his job is to love me no matter what,” Kurt said, his voice strong and unwavering. “Because that's what a father does, Blaine. He's there for his kid. He supports his kid. And it doesn't matter if his kid is ten or twenty or fifty. His love for you is not supposed to come with any conditions.”

Blaine felt a lump in his throat and he struggled to breathe. His fingers tightened on Kurt's shirt. “Your dad sounds like a remarkable man.”

“He is,” Kurt said instantly, no doubt in his tone. “And I'll make sure to introduce you to him one day. He'll love you.”

Blaine didn't want to cry – there was no reason to cry, not really. He had been dealing with this since he was a kid. His father certainly did not deserve the tears, and he did not want to think about what he would say if he saw his son crying. So he swallowed the urge to bury his face in Kurt's chest and cry and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry about Adam, Kurt.”

Kurt began to rub his back again. “I'm sorry about your dad, Blaine.”

They held each other, and for a while, it was enough – enough to soothe two cracked hearts and patch them up again. Blaine closed his eyes and did not think about how, with his face buried in Kurt's neck, he felt at home for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little heart to heart, and what most of you have been waiting for – no more Adam!  
> Thank you so much for reading! I'll be seeing you again... sooner than you think ;)  
> Love,  
> L.-


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas.   
> As always, I can't thank you enough for your comments on the last chapter. And, if you missed it, I posted a little Christmas surprise on Thursday for all those who loved Syrup and Honey :)   
> Christine is the Beta Queen forever. Thanks for your help ♥  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from Better.  
> Enjoy!

_I don't feel like we're done here  
You got a lock on the things I want  
I'm a lost, lonely one here who's addicted to holding on  
I don't have you to kiss now and I'm putting myself to sleep  
_ _But it's me that I miss now, there's a me that I didn't keep_

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the window, clear and bright, and fell right onto the bed. Kurt woke up slowly and immediately squinted at the glare of the light, wishing he had remembered to close the curtains the previous night.

There was a heavy weight against his left side, draped over him like a really, really solid blanket. Blaine had moved even closer during the night, and somehow their legs had become intertwined. His face was still buried in Kurt's neck, as it had been the previous night when they fell asleep, and Kurt was effectively pinned to the bed. Moving was not an option.

It had been a long time since he had woken up next to someone – a man, really. He had enough sleepovers with his girls, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same to wake up with Rachel's soft hair stuck to his nose or Santana's long legs thred through his own. There was something about waking up next to a man that truly reinforced that Kurt was wholy and truly gay. It was something about the scent of a man's skin, the slight roughness of chest or leg hair, the heaviness of the muscles, the hands...

And Blaine was no exception. He smelled amazing and he fit to his side like he had been made for it.

Kurt wished he could wake up like this every day.

He was still sleepy and trying to get his brain up to speed to get his morning started when, somewhere else in the apartment, Blaine's alarm started blaring. Blaine immediately lifted his head, looking disoriented and confused, and smacked his lips adorably.

“What's going on?” He asked.

Kurt had to lift his arm – the one that wasn't completely numb under Blaine, anyway – to stifle his laughter. “Time to wake up, silly.”

Blaine groaned and dropped his head again onto Kurt's shoulder. “You're comfy, Kurt.”

Kurt laughed again, only to get interrupted by his own stomach growling in protest. “We fell asleep without having dinner last night. I'm starving.”

Blaine yawned so loud his jaw popped. “Oh, food. Yes, please.”

Kurt decided he really liked Blaine when he was sleepy. It wasn't fair just how adorable he was, though. “Well, get off me and I'll go make breakfast.”

Letting out a clearly unhappy sigh, Blaine rolled away, finally freeing Kurt. “Fine. I'll take a shower.”

As Blaine went into the bathroom and Kurt padded down the hallway towards the kitchen, he didn't stop to think that he should have woken up heartbroken. He didn't even think of Adam, or about what had happened the previous day. He didn't think of the reason they had ended up talking in his bed, until they finally fell asleep tangled on top of the covers.

He just started whistling a random tune and decided he was in the mood for pancakes.

* * *

Blaine was on his knees on the kitchen floor trying to find a big enough plastic container when he heard the front door and Kurt's voice announcing he was home.

“I thought you were going straight to Bushwick!” Blaine yelled back in greeting, his upper body halfway inside the cabinet. “How come we can never find the Tupperwares when we need them?”

He heard more than saw Kurt standing at the kitchen entrance, amusement in his voice. “Are you trying to get to Narnia? Because you need a closet for that.”

“Yeah, I'm not stepping back into the closet any time soon,” Blaine muttered, earning a loud cackle from Kurt.

“Good to know,” he said. “And yeah, that was the plan, but some idiot on the subway knocked right into me and made me spill my coffee all over my pants. I need to change.”

“Well, it works in my favor. You know I hate going to Rachel and Santana's by myself. Last time, everyone was late and I had to sit with Santana alone for half an hour,” Blaine said distractedly, and then he saw the container he was looking for right at the back of the cabinet. He let out a triumphant little scream.

“I can't believe you're still scared of her,” Kurt snorted indelicately. “She's all bark and no bite.”

“She makes me nervous, okay?” Blaine said, as he shoved all the containers he had spilled on the floor back into the cabinet, and then stood up with the one he needed. “She asks me really uncomfortable questions and goes really silent while she waits for me to answer.”

“I forget you didn't go to school with us,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “We're all used to her by now.” He moved towards the stove and looked into the pot Blaine had there. “What did you make?”

“Oh, I found a really great vegan mac and cheese recipe and thought I'd give it a shot. Rachel always complains that the only vegan options we bring are salads,” Blaine explained, as he began to transfer the contents of the pot into his plastic container. “I tried it when I was making it and it was delicious, so I'm pretty proud of myself.” He batted Kurt's hand away when he tried to steal some. “Nope. You'll try it when we get there. Now, will you tell me how your audition went or do I need to give you the third degree?”

Kurt smiled at him. “I think it went really well? But I don't want to get my hopes up. They let me finish my song and didn't make any rude comments, so I'm calling it a win.”

“I have a good feeling about this one!” Blaine said. He knew he had been saying that a lot after Kurt's recent auditions, but the way Kurt smiled at him, like it was giving his confidence a boost, made it worth it. “Alright, go change or we'll be late.”

“Right,” Kurt said, spinning on his heels to exit the kitchen.

Kurt insisted on treating his poor stained pants before leaving the apartment (“these are _vintage Christian Dior_ , Blaine. I had to wrestle them out of another guy's grip in a thrift store in Chelsea. I'm not letting them get ruined just so we don't make Rachel Berry wait”), so in the end they were the last to arrive, though Blaine was glad it was the case. Santana was already entertained making Sam uncomfortable, and Blaine guessed he would get a free pass tonight.

Mercedes, Rachel and Brittany immediately went to the door the greet them, pressing kisses to their cheeks and helping them with their coats and the tote bag with the food.

“Oh finally! I'm starving!” Mercedes exclaimed, as they ushered them all towards the kitchen area. “Let's get dinner ready.”

Rachel squealed in delight when Blaine revealed his mac and cheese container and explained it was vegan. She wanted to know exactly what was in it, so while Blaine put it in a baking dish to heat it up in the oven, he gave her a step-by-step account and a list of ingredients. Kurt chuckled under his breath while he and Brittany finished setting up the table, and Sam joined them, glad to have an excuse to escape Santana.

It was easy, being with them, and Blaine was happy to notice they had welcomed him into their group without even a second's hesitation. Most of them went to see him play at the bar every week, and since Kurt had brought him for their Monday potluck dinners the first time, they had insisted he had to come to every single one of them now. It felt like they had adopted him, and Blaine secretly loved it. Aside from Sam – and Eli, if he even counted – he hadn't made many friends, he had mostly acquantainces and classmates, people he got along with but that he didn't belong with. Here, it was different. It was the first time Blaine understood what people meant when they said friends were the family you chose.

Soon they were all sitting at the table, which wasn't even remotely big enough for all of them, but they didn't mind it being a little crowded. Brittany was almost perched on Santana's lap, one of Santana's arms protectively around her waist to keep her from falling; Sam and Mercedes kept bumping against each other as they passed dishes around; Kurt was sitting so close to Blaine that his shoulder was pressed completely flushed against his, with Rachel on his other side, already talking a mile a minute. Sometimes, they would sit around the coffee table in the living room area, scattered around the floor, their backs against the couch, but it was cold today, and the heat from the oven and each other's proximity was welcomed.

Rachel had made tofu stir fry; Mercedes and Sam had brought rotissery chicken and garlic baked potatoes; Brittany had arranged quite a lovely cheese plate – the only thing she was allowed to bring to the table since her Orange Duck Debacle; Blaine still had nightmares over it – and Santana, though she pretended to be completely above working in any way to please others, had made a rather delicious quiche and cupcakes for dessert. Kurt had tossed a salad together (“god, you guys, it won't kill you to eat some more vegetables...” “We've been through this in high school, Kurt. Potatoes are a vegetable”) and Blaine passed around his mac and cheese, quite proud at how everyone hummed pleasantly as they tried it.

These weekly hang outs were the perfect excuse for all of them to catch up on each other's lives. Texting throughout the week wasn't enough sometimes, and when they met at Blaine's gig on Thursdays, they usually just wanted to relax and have some fun. Blaine was marveled at their amazing dynamic – it wasn't difficult to see how comfortable with each other they all were, how used to each other's antics. They loved each other, had seen each other at their best and at their worst, and Blaine sometimes found himself wondering what it would be like to have friends like Kurt's, people who knew him for so many years they could read him like an open book.

“So, first order of business,” Santana announced as Brittany poured some wine for her, which she thanked her for by pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. It was amazing to see Santana being so soft with someone else, when she was all sharp-edges and bitch glares with the rest of the world. “Rachel told me you and Adam are ancient history, Hummel.”

Blaine felt Kurt tense slightly next to him.

“Santana, have a little tact,” Mercedes said, coming to her friend's rescue, before turning to Kurt. “We're really sorry, Kurt. Adam was cool.”

Kurt let out a little sigh. “I'm fine, guys. I think deep down inside I knew it was coming. He's happier there and I wasn't planning on moving to London, so...”

“How are you feeling?” Rachel asked, her big eyes focused on Kurt.

“Well, I'm unemployed and single, Rachel, so I've been better,” Kurt replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Blaine let his hand settle on Kurt's knee under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Kurt turned to look at him, a little smile just for him stretching on his lips.

“Don't be sad, Kurt,” Brittany said, in that dreamy tone of hers. “Adam was nice but I couldn't understand a single thing he said. He sounded like a magical creature, like the leprechaun I had back in high school.”

Blaine wasn't even fazed by this comment anymore. Brittany said a lot of unusual things. She and Sam had conversations that could confuse the hell out of the rest of them, though.

“He's British, Brit,” Kurt replied, as he spared some chicken onto his fork. “And don't worry, I'm not sad. Not really.”

“If you're ready to get some new succulent ass,” Santana said, and everyone around the table groaned at her crassness. She continued like there had been no interruption, “then I'm happy to inform you that Brit and I know a guy who would be perfect for you. We could go on a double date sometime.”

“Dating is the last thing on my mind right now,” Kurt said. “And I think going on a blind date with you as my wing woman would probably be one of the most terrifying experiences of my entire life.”

“Whatever, I'm not the one who hasn't had sex in over six months,” Santana muttered, and turned her attention back to the food.

“True, we had sex this morning!” Brittany exclaimed, grinning widely, causing everyone to groan again.

Kurt downed his glass of wine in one big gulp.

* * *

There were days in which Kurt had nowhere to go, no reason to leave the apartment at all, and those were the hardest ones.

He wasn't good at being still, at not finding a reason to be productive every minute of his day. He had lost count of the times he had scrubbed the entirety of the apartment clean. He cooked. He went grocery shopping. He practiced for his auditions. He tried to read, if the voices in his head allowed him to. But the hours stretched forever before him, and nothing was enough to fill them.

Sometimes, when Blaine had a lesson scheduled, he would go for a long walk to give him privacy to work. He wondered if Blaine was as sick of his fidgeting as he was.

He checked his bank account every day and felt the worry crawl up his spine. His father had told him to call him if he needed any help, but Kurt didn't want to have to do that. Blaine had told him he didn't have to pay rent until he got a new job and Kurt felt so angry and humiliated that Blaine had left the room, raising his hands in front of him as if holding a shield.

He was reaching the end of the rope but his feet couldn't find the ground. He didn't want to hang there forever, hoping for a miracle. He didn't want to let go and fall into the dark abyss beneath him.

Despite Blaine's insistence that he could do this, that he had the talent to make it, Kurt began to send his resumé to restaurants and coffee shops. Dreams were nice, but they weren't enough to feed you and to keep a roof over your head.

It was Friday and he got home after a long walk. The weather was growing colder and colder every day, and Christmas decorations had begun to appear all over the city. Kurt usually loved this time of the year, but this time he couldn't bring himself to join in on the holiday spirit. He was glad he was going to Ohio in a couple of weeks. He really needed a hug from his dad.

Kurt began to unwrap his long scarf just as he felt his phone vibrate deep within his coat's pocker. Blaine was playing the piano quietly in the living room, alone, his students gone for the day. The tune that filled the air felt random and slow as if Blaine was trying to find the right melody to play. It usually meant Blaine was working on a new song, so Kurt didn't say anything, not wanting to disturb him.

Instead, he grabbed his phone and frowned at the unknown number on the screen. “Hello?”

He walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. He wanted some tea to get the cold out of his bones.

“Hello, is this Kurt Hummel?” A voice asked.

“Yes, I'm Kurt. Who is this?” He said absently.

“This is Mary Reeves, with the Silversong Theatre Company,” she said in a gentle, paused tone. Kurt closed the faucet and put the kettle down on the stove immediately. “You auditioned for us last week.”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Kurt said, and hated how breathy and high his voice sounded all of a sudden.

“Well, you have been picked as part of the ensemble of our new production,” she informed him, and Kurt had to move towards the breakfast bar and take a seat, because his legs felt like jelly.

She proceeded to give him all the information he would need and Kurt struggled to make sense of it in his head as he reached for the notepad they often used to write their grocery lists and wrote down everything as she spoke. His hand was shaking so badly that he almost couldn't recognize his own handwriting.

By the time she said goodbye and ended the phone call, Kurt was so stunned and near tears that he dropped both the phone and the pen onto the breakfast bar with a dull thump.

He hadn't noticed the piano had stopped echoing from the living room until a hand was being pressed gently to his shoulder.

“Kurt? Are you alright?” Blaine asked softly.

Kurt turned on his seat to face him and looked right into Blaine's concerned eyes. He felt the smile begin to pull at the corners of his mouth. “I... I just got cast in my first Broadway musical.”

“What?” Blaine exclaimed, excitement flooding his face. He grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled him to his feet and right into his arms for a hug. “Oh my god, that's amazing! I knew you could do this!”

“It's just the ensemble but...” Kurt muttered into his shoulder. “I can't believe it.”

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,” Blaine parrotted into his ear. “I'm so happy for you. What is it for?”

“New revival of Cats,” Kurt said, disbelievingly. “I start rehearsals after New Year's.”

Blaine squealed and began bouncing up and down, Kurt still trapped in his arms. His happiness was so sincere that Kurt started laughing and crying at the same time, until he joined in and squealed in relief and joy.

Blaine grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled away enough to look him in the eyes. “I'm so proud of you for not giving up. And I'm going to be there on opening night cheering so loudly I'll embarrass you in front of your castmates.”

Kurt laughed again as he wiped at his tears. “Oh my god, I can't believe it. I thought... I thought I wouldn't...”

“None of that,” Blaine cut him off. “You deserve it. No more self-doubt, okay? No more putting yourself down or thinking you're not good enough. This is just the beginning, Kurt.”

Kurt let out another squeal and pulled him into another hug.

“Oh, I need to call my dad!” He said after a few seconds. “I need to tell him!”

Kurt paced around the living room as he waited for his dad to pick up the call. Blaine went into the kitchen to continue making the tea Kurt had completely forgotten about.

“Hello?” Burt Hummel's voice always felt like a balm on Kurt's soul.

“Dad, I did it!” Kurt practically screamed. “I got cast in a musical!”

Now it was Burt who was screaming, trying to congratulate Kurt and get Carole into the room at the same time, making such a ruckus that Kurt couldn't help but laugh. His father put him on speaker phone as Carole joined him so he could talk to both of them at the same time, asking questions and wanting to hear every single detail, and Kurt was so happy he didn't even know where to start.

Just as Kurt began to explain, his hands still shaking with excitement, there was a knock on the door and Blaine left the kitchen to go see who it was. Kurt stood in the living room and glanced at the front door as Blaine opened it, to find Eli standing there.

Eli stepped immediately inside and pulled Blaine flushed against his body, bringing him into a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made Kurt stutter as he tried to explain his parents what Cats was about. The kiss seemed to go on forever, languid and a little bit dirty, until Eli finally ended it, only to bring his mouth to Blaine's ear, his hands travelling down his back to squeeze at Blaine's ass, and whisper something only he could hear but that made Blaine's entire face redden.

Eli didn't wait for a reply, simply grabbed Blaine's hand and guided him down the hallway. There was a bang as Blaine's bedroom door was shut, and Kurt found himself standing alone in the living room, his parents' happy voices in his ear, feeling as if a bucket of ice-cold water had just been dumped on his head.

The bubble of joy that had begun to grow inside of him suddenly popped and disappeared, and all the plans Kurt had started to make in his head to celebrate vanished without him being able to understand why his happiness had gone sour at the sight of Eli kissing Blaine.

He made excuses to Burt and Carole, saying he had to meet his friends to celebrate, and ended the call abruptly. For some reason, he couldn't stay here. He couldn't be in this apartment for a moment longer. He couldn't bear to hear the muffled laughter coming from Blaine's room. He wrapped his scarf back around his neck and buttoned his coat. He needed to take another walk.

Two cups of tea, completely forgotten, went cold on the kitchen counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything's coming up Kurt! Well, except a new boyfriend. At least for now!  
> I hope you liked the chapter :)  
> Have a wonderful weekend and I'll be seeing you again on Wednesday!  
> Love,  
> L.-


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you're having a nice Wednesday!  
> Thank you so much for the comments on the previous chapter :) Your support means the world to me.  
> As always, I need to thank Christine for her help and patience. You rock :)  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from the amazing song Rain.  
> Enjoy!

_My heart's been broken and broken and broken and broken_ _  
_ _But I keep, keep on hoping and hoping and hoping and hoping_ _  
_ _That if it keeps on breaking and breaking and breaking and breaking_ _  
_ _That one day it'll open and open and open and open and open for you_ _  
  
_ _Hey!_ _  
_ _I know we've both been afraid, but we can't run_ _  
_ _From the wind and the thunder when we're dancing under_ _  
_ _The rain, the rain, the rain_

* * *

It was too early to do anything but scroll mindlessly through Instagram, killing time and paying no attention to the hurried passengers coming and going. Kurt stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, his eyes filling with tears – he had almost thrown his phone across the room when the alarm had gone off at three in the morning.

A cup of coffee appeared magically before him and he blinked sleepily at it until he followed the hand holding it, then the arm, and up, up, to Blaine's smiling face.

“How are you so awake?” Kurt groaned, accepting it gratefully and taking a large gulp. It was scalding but he didn't care. It was cold inside the airport terminal.

Blaine plopped down on the seat next to him, his own cup of coffee in hand. “I never even went to sleep. I had like three cups of coffee while you were asleep.” He must have noticed the look on Kurt's face, because he chuckled. “I get nervous when I fly. I hate planes.”

“You're gonna crash so hard when you get home,” Kurt snorted, as he cradled his coffee like it was his favorite thing in the world. Right now, it was.

 _Home_. Waking up at three, getting his ass out of bed on a cold December night, sitting in a crowded airport terminal. Everything would be worth it once Kurt finally made it home, once he could hug his dad. He was so anxious to get there already that he couldn't help but check his watch every two minutes, hoping it was time to board already.

It was another half an hour before their flight was announced and they could head to their gate. Kurt sighed in relief as soon as they were in their seats – Blaine had let him have the window seat – and Kurt tried to count the minutes until his feet would be on Ohio soil. How many steps would it take him from the plane right into his father's arms?

The plane's engine began to vibrate as it got ready to depart and Blaine visibly tensed next to him.

“You weren't kidding when you said you don't like planes, huh?” Kurt murmured, tilting his head so he could look at him.

Blaine's jaw was clenched tightly and he simply shook his head. “We're in a tin can with wings, Kurt. Everything could go wrong.”

Kurt had to hide his laugh when the lady sitting across the aisle from them glared at Blaine, who was too busy panicking to notice.

“It'll be alright,” he reassured him and looked out the window as the plane began to move forward.

Blaine's hand reached for his, intertwining their fingers tightly.

Kurt's eyes snapped to their hands, his breath hitching momentarily.

He had been feeling a little weird since the day he had got the call about being cast in Cats. The way his stomach had twisted painfully at seeing Eli kiss Blaine made him uncomfortable for reasons he did not want to think about.

He had returned to the apartment after walking aimlessly for two hours to find Blaine sitting on the couch, his hair still damp from the shower, who frowned and asked where he had gone. Kurt had said he'd needed a moment to calm down after the good news, and Blaine had grinned so widely at him, so happy for his good fortune, and then claimed they needed to go out and celebrate. Two minutes later he had already texted all their friends and made plans to get together. They had gone out for drinks that night and Kurt had done everything he could to push away that weird sensation that made everything feel so _wrong_.

He had been so careful since then. So, so careful not to touch Blaine, not to look at him for too long, not to let his heart even lean into the possibility. He had just broken up with Adam, he said to himself, he was just lonely, desperately so. That was all it was.

But now Blaine was holding onto his hand for dear life, like Kurt was the only tether he had left to remind him that everything would be okay, and Kurt couldn't push him away. He couldn't be careful.

“Hey,” he muttered, softly. Blaine opened his eyes just enough to peek at him. “Come here.”

He lifted his arm, untangling his hand from Blaine's, and let him move as close as their seatbelts allowed him to, wrapping him up and offering whatever safety he could. He rubbed his shoulder and used his free hand to grab Blaine's, their fingers immediately tangling again, slotting together like puzzle pieces as the plane tilted upwards and into the sky.

He told himself the sudden swoop in his stomach had to do with the plane taking flight and not with the way Blaine turned his head and pressed his forehead against Kurt's temple.

He was lonely. That was all. His loneliness – which he had dragged after himself for as long as Adam had been gone – was catching up with him.

His eagerness to arrive in Ohio only grew more urgent.

* * *

The landing was almost as bad as the take off, and Blaine's legs were still shaking slightly by the time they got off the plane and headed towards baggage claim. He kept one of his arms firmly looped around Kurt's for support, and Kurt tried not to miss their suitcases while also keeping an eye on Blaine. He'd never seen him looking so pale.

“Are you sure you can drive yourself home?” Kurt asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” Blaine insisted, as they wheeled their suitcases towards the exit. “This happens every time I fly. I just need to drink some water and get some fresh air, and I'll be good as new.”

“Fine, but you'll have to text me as soon as you get home,” Kurt said, still a bit unsure.

Blaine squeezed his arm in comfort. Shouldn't he have let go by now if he felt better? Kurt was about to protest once again, when he caught sight of his dad waiting right outside the gates and his heart sped up.

“Dad...” He whispered, and tugged on Blaine's arm to make him hurry, because suddenly he needed to be right by his father's side or he wouldn't be able to breathe.

His father looked exactly the same way he always did, remaining the one solid thing in Kurt's life – he could always trust his dad to show up when he needed him, wearing the same old Buckeyes cap on his bald head and the same old dark green coat he had been wearing since Kurt was in high school. He knew that as soon as his dad opened his arms to hold him, Kurt would bury his nose in his shoulder and smell his aftershave mixed with the scent of oil and grease that he couldn't shake away, no matter how many times he showered as soon as he got home from the shop.

He let go of Blaine's arm at the last possible second, hoping he wouldn't topple over without support, and launched himself at his dad, who was ready to catch him. Burt's strong arms were around him instantly, chuckling lowly at his son's youthful enthusiasm. It didn't matter how old he got – he would always be a little kid at these moments, when he finally saw his dad after too many months apart.

“It's so good to see you, kiddo,” Burt murmured into his hair. He was probably flattening it, but Kurt didn't care, for once. “So good.”

“Missed you, dad,” Kurt murmured back, closing his eyes and letting himself be enveloped in the feeling of being home.

Burt squeezed his shoulder as he pulled away, saying everything he needed without a single word. Then he looked right behind Kurt. “And who's this?”

Kurt kept a hand on his dad's forearm as he turned around and gestured for Blaine to come closer. “Dad, this is my roommate, Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is my dad, Burt Hummel.”

“Mr. Hummel, it's such a pleasure to meet you,” Blaine said, all polite, perfect prep-school boy, offering his hand to Burt.

“Hi, Blaine. It's a pleasure to meet you, too,” Burt replied as he accepted Blaine's hand and shook it. “Kurt's told me a lot about you. I'm glad he found such a good roommate.”

“Oh,” Blaine looked down at his shoes, color finally rising on his pale cheeks. “Thank you. I'm so happy to have found him, too. I love living with him.”

“You okay? You look a little pale, son,” Burt commented, eyebrow arching in a way very similar to Kurt's.

Blaine kept that polite air around him and waved away Burt's concern. “I'm okay.”

“He hates flying. He was shaking like a leaf a few minutes ago,” Kurt replied.

“Well, is anyone picking you up?” Burt looked around as if he expected to find someone with a sign and Blaine's name written on it.

“No, I'm getting a rental and driving to Westerville,” Blaine explained. “But I promise I'm fine. I'm feeling better already.”

“I'm not sure we're going to feel right leaving you here to drive home by yourself if you don't feel well enough for it...” Burt said.

Kurt sighed and glanced between them, “He's stubborn, dad. I already told him.”

“Westerville's on the way, buddy. It wouldn't be any trouble at all to drop you off,” Burt insisted, because if the rest of the world was stubborn, then he could be even more so. That's where Kurt got his own stubborness, at least. “Unless you really need that rental car, then we'll be happy to drive you home.”

Blaine hesitated, biting his lip, his grip tightening on the handle of his suitcase. “I wouldn't want to impose...”

“We're offering,” Burt cut him off, his voice firm by gently. “Come on, let's get going. They said on the radio that we're supposed to get some snow and we should try to make it home before then.”

Without waiting for Blaine to actually say anything else, Burt grabbed his suitcase from him, put a big, heavy hand on Blaine's shoulder, and began to guide him towards the exit. Blaine looked over his shoulder helplessly at Kurt, who was having a hard time holding back laughter. Once Burt Hummel set his mind on something, there was no changing it.

His truck wasn't parked far away, and Burt ushered them inside as soon as they had put their luggage in the back, wanting to shield them from the cold weather. Blaine slipped into the backseat as Kurt sat at the front, next to his father.

Just as he was turning the key in the ignition, Burt gestured towards the glove compartment. “Check there, Kurt, I think Carole left some cookies.”

Kurt frowned as he did what his father said. “Are you hungry? Did you not have time for breakfast?”

Burt grabbed the box of chocolate-covered Oreos from his son and immediately passed it back, as he pulled out of his parking space. “Here, Blaine. Eat something. It'll help you feel better.”

Kurt looked back and saw Blaine pause before he grabbed the box from him, his eyes a little wide, the shock obvious in them.

“Do what he says or he'll nag you all the way to Westerville,” Kurt said teasingly, but his smile was reassuring.

“Thank you,” Blaine said quietly, and fished a cookie out of the box.

Kurt looked out the window as his father drove, asking Blaine a million questions about his life – mostly directed towards his studies, fortunately, because Kurt hadn't had time to warn him not to ask questions about his family. The last thing Blaine needed was to be reminded of his own father, at least now. He listened to the amicable tone of their voices as he watched Ohio pass him by, distantly familiar. It always felt weird to come back here, just as weird as leaving felt. Kurt had always been in a bit of a limbo when it came to his home state – he couldn't wait to run away but he was glad he had a reason to come back. It was a complicated relationship.

It didn't take long until they were in Westerville, and Blaine began to give Burt instructions as they navigated a beautiful residential neighborhood. They eventually stopped in front of a large, gorgeous house, and Burt let out a little whistle under his breath. Kurt had already guessed Blaine's family came from money, considering the apartment in New York they had paid in advance for their son, but it was still a little shocking to witness further proof of just how comfortable they were.

Blaine cleared his throat, far from comfortable himself. “Oh, uhm. Well. Thank you so much for driving me, Mr. Hummel. It was so kind of you,” he said awkwardly.

“It was no problem, son. I liked having the chance to get to know you. You let Kurt know if you need us to pick you back up and give you a ride to the airport for the flight back, okay?” Burt said, turning on his seat, his hand pressed to the back of Kurt's for support.

“Thank you,” Blaine muttered again, and reached for the door.

“I'll help you with your suitcase,” Kurt said, and got out of the car, too.

They went to the back of the car and Kurt opened the trunk to get Blaine's suitcase.

“You weren't exagerating when you said your father was amazing,” Blaine commented, scratching the back of his neck. “He's really something.”

“I'm glad you got to meet him,” Kurt said, as he closed the trunk again. “Are you okay? You still seem a little...”

“Oh, yeah. I'm fine.” Blaine glanced at the house hesitantly. “It's just... it's always a little weird, coming back. I grew up in this house, but it's... I don't know.”

“But your mom and your brother will be here, right?” Kurt asked, frowning. “And you're happy to see them?”

“Of course,” Blaine replied, quickly. “Of course I'm happy to get to see them.” Blaine laughed a little, but it lacked humor. “Sorry. I'm being stupid.”

“You're not.” Kurt reassured him.

Blaine tugged on his hand and pulled him into a hug. “Have a nice holiday, Kurt.”

Kurt wrapped his arms around him for a moment, squeezing a little tighter than he'd meant to. “You too.”

Blaine pulled away, grabbed his suitcase and walked up the driveway towards the front door. He put his hand on the doorknob and waved at Kurt over his shoulder before the went inside.

Kurt returned to the car, rubbing his hands together to try to get rid of the cold, and he and his father continued on their way to Lima.

* * *

The cardigan slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor with a dull thump. Blaine sighed and bent to retrieve it, refolding it carefully before putting it into the drawer with the others.

“I don't know why you bother to unpack everything as soon as you get home,” a voice said from the door. “Why can't you just relax?”

Blane closed the drawer before he turned to face his brother. Cooper was leaning against the door and looking into his room with vague interest, as if it was the very first time he had ever been here. He looked tall and lean, his hands in his jeans pockets, his hair swooped up perfectly and away from his face, his blue sweater a wonderful match for his sparkling eyes.

Blaine caught a quick glance of himself in the mirror – he felt small and unkempt. His hair never quite cooperated, his eyes were unremarkable, his body was still compact despite the fact that he worked out. Boys – and girls – had called him attractive, but he never felt like it when he stood next to his brother.

Cooper could outshine the sun.

“I don't want my clothes to get all wrinkled,” he replied absently, as he closed his now empty suitcase and slipped it under his bed.

“You were awfully quiet during brunch,” Cooper commented, coming into the room and dropping down on Blaine's bed.

“Just a lot on my mind,” Blaine murmured. He stood next to the bookcase and looked at the mementos from his childhood – sports trophies, books, action figures, pictures from his Dalton days. He always felt like a stranger when he came back here, like he couldn't quite recognize the person he had once been.

It was just weird to be back in Ohio. He had grown used to the noise and rhythm of New York.

“Is that why you didn't come home for Thanksgiving?” Cooper asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No. It was just too much trouble for only three or four days. School was crazy and I had too much to do,” Blaine explained, as he grabbed his desk chair to take a seat.

“Well, you missed Mom's turkey, and it was amazing. What did you do? Did you stay home by yourself eating take-out? Because that's just sad, Blaine.”

“I did not stay home by myself,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “Our friends threw a little dinner party at their loft in Bushwick. It was... kind of fantastic? I've never met a group of people who can turn any simple ocassion into a musical extravaganza. They're outstanding.”

“Are these new friends? How come I never heard of them?” Cooper asked curiously.

“Well, you know Sam. His girlfriend introduced me to my new roommate. They went to high school together and then they all decided to go to New York and try to make a life there. I'm really glad I found them. I haven't had a good group of friends like that since I was in high school.”

Blaine thought back to Thanksgiving. It had been a memorable day. He and Kurt had taken over dinner, with help from Mercedes and Santana every now and then. He had loved bumping against Kurt as they worked together, Brittany and Santana singing a love song together in the living room, while Sam and Rachel set the table and Mercedes lit candles. The whole night had been like that, full of food and laughter, singing and dancing, until they all collapsed, bellies full of turkey, pie and wine, and decided to have an impromptu sleepover. Rachel and Brittany had brought blankets and pillows for everyone and they had all slept together in the living room, talking until they fell asleep.

It was one of Blaine's favorite days since he had moved to New York.

“So, what's new with you?” Blaine asked, as he watched his brother stretch his arms over his head. “What have you been up to?”

There were very few things that Cooper enjoyed more than talking about himself. He happily filled Blaine in on his life – the people he met in Los Angeles, the auditions he went to, the role he had been chosen for (“so far it's just a pilot, but... who knows? Maybe it'll blow up. Maybe it'll be the next Friends.”), the girl he had been seeing for the past couple of months – before giving him a detailed minute-to-minute recount of his trip back to Ohio as if it was an epic journey instead of a four hour flight. Blaine had mostly tuned him out now, but something brought his attention back.

“... and then I got off the plane and dad picked me up so we could get lunch together before I came home...”

Blaine blinked at his brother. “Dad picked you up?”

“Oh, yeah. You know how he is,” Cooper said, shrugging, though Blaine definitely did not know. “He insisted. I wanted to come straight home and see mom, but he called me a million times and it was easier giving in, I guess.”

Blaine felt as if someone had used a spoon to efficiently and quickly empty his stomach until there was nothing left there but a gaping hole. So his father couldn't take a moment away from his clients to visit Blaine in New York, but he could make all the time in the world to pick Cooper up at the airport and take him out for lunch. He couldn't call Blaine to check on him at least once a month, but he had time to call Cooper as many times as necessary to convince him to see him.

Blaine looked down at his hands and tried to keep his voice in check. “So how's he doing?”

Cooper sat up to look at Blaine, his face serious for once. “He's still a self-absorbed bastard, Blaine. I honestly only agreed to see him because I thought I'd be able to talk some sense into him, to maybe get him to spend time with both of us before we leave, but...”

“He only wants to spend time with you,” Blaine finished for him. He nodded slowly. “I get that.”

“It's stupid. There's no point getting upset because of him,” Cooper said fiercely. “He doesn't know how to be a good dad.”

“I hear he was a pretty good one before I was born,” Blaine muttered quietly, and when he saw Cooper opened his mouth to reply, he held up his hand to stop him. “It's fine. Really. It is. I know I'm not going to change him and I know that he isn't worth my time. I tried being a part of his life and he kept rejecting me. That's not what a good father does. I don't need him.”

As he said those words, his brain replayed the image from earlier that morning: Kurt stepping into his father's arms for a tight hug, the happiness in both men's faces when they looked at each other, the loving way in which Burt held his son.

“Hey, tell me more about this girl. What did you say her name was?” Blaine said, and he saw in the way Cooper looked at him that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Her name is Sophie,” he replied, and let Blaine get away with it.

* * *

Pam Anderson smiled as she leaned over to press a kiss to each of her sons' foreheads, as she had done every day while they were kids. Blaine closed his eyes minutely as he felt her lips pressed against his head and pretended he was a child all over again.

“Alright, I'll be back soon,” she said as she straightened up. “Are you sure you don't mind picking up...?”

“Mom, go,” Cooper reassured her with the most charming grin. “We'll clean up.”

Blaine, who had already begun to gather the dirty dishes, nodded. “Go have fun. We'll see you later.”

Christmas lunch had been a lovely affair, with the three of them gathered around the dining table, which was covered with more food than they could possibly eat in one sitting. Pam had promised to see a few of her friends that afternoon (or, as Cooper called them, The Divorced Ladies Crew), and so the Anderson boys had to fend for themselves. They picked up the dishes, put away all the left overs, and then stood before the sink, Blaine to wash and Cooper to dry. Cooper insisted on singing Christmas songs at the top of his lungs until Blaine flicked water at him to get him to shut up.

“So, do you want to watch some Christmas movies?” Blaine proposed once they were done.

“Maybe later? I want to call Sophie, she must be up already,” Cooper said, his eyes on the large clock on the wall as he calculated the time difference.

Cooper retired to his bedroom and Blaine found himself alone, wandering around the house. The Christmas tree in the living room was still as beautiful and huge as he remembered it, and it had looked even bigger filled with presents earlier. Blaine now owned a lot more things that he didn't need, but he appreciated the thought both his mother and Cooper had put into buying gifts for him. He wondered why he always felt so empty when unwrapping gifts.

In the end, he went up to his bedroom, and was about to start reading one of the books his mother had given him that morning when his phone buzzed with a text.

**From: Eli.**

_Merry Christmas ;)_

Blaine was trying to figure out if the emoji had been a slip of the finger and Eli had instead intended to send him something holiday-related when the text was followed by another one almost instantly – this time a pic.

Blaine blinked down at it a few times, but there was no mistaking it: it was a picture of Eli's dick.

Some other day he might have felt turned on, or he might have laughed at how ridiculous Eli could be. It certainly wasn't the first time he was presented with the image, and by now he was pretty acquainted with all of Eli's body, but... something about getting a dick pic as a Christmas greeting made him feel a bit depressed.

They had never exchanged gifts, though Blaine had seen a rather nice scarf for Eli in a store the previous week and considered buying it. But it was so hard to know where he stood with him – sometimes Eli was cold and distant and sometimes he was all over him. Blaine knew most of their relationship was physical, but he liked to think that it would eventually feel like _more_.

He stared at his phone for a long moment, before he deleted the picture. He let himself fall onto his bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like a very long time, before he finally reached for his phone again and dialed Kurt's number.

It rang twice before Kurt's slightly breathless voice echoed in his ear. “Blaine, hello.”

“Hey, is it a bad time?” Blaine asked.

“No, not at all. It's a nice surprise,” Kurt replied, and there was a sound in the background, like a door closing.

“Just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas,” Blaine said quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Blaine,” Kurt muttered back, just as softly.

There was a small pause, and Blaine could picture Kurt lying on his childhood bed much like Blaine was doing now, phone pressed to his ear and staring up at the ceiling.

He wished they were back in New York already.

He cleared his throat and said: “So how's Christmas at the Hummel's?”

“Oh, you know...” Kurt sighed tiredly. “Holidays are... complicated.”

Blaine frowned. He didn't like how Kurt's voice sounded right now. “Is everything alright?”

“I need a moment,” Kurt whispered. “Can you tell me about your Christmas, first?”

Blaine wanted to know if Kurt was okay, but knew better than to push. Instead, he told Kurt about how his mother had decorated the entire house, about her delicious cooking, about all the presents that he had unwrapped that morning, about Cooper's antics and his mysterious new girlfriend.

“You don't sound very happy, though,” Kurt commented when he paused to take a breath. “Are you having a nice time?”

“Of course,” Blaine said immediately, politeness and manners ingrained in him for too long making him reply before he could even think.

“Blaine...” Kurt prompted, because he knew him well by now.

Blaine let out a long exhale of breath. “Okay, fine. I'm not having a bad time, per se, it's just... part of me wishes we could have had Christmas in Bushwick, you know? And cook and sing and be happy. I don't love being here. I love my mom and I love Coop, don't get me wrong. But... it feels like we're together only because we're supposed to be together. We don't do much as a family. And...” he stopped and ran a hand down his face. It was difficult to put his thoughts in order so he could share them with Kurt. “Well. My dad picked Cooper up at the airport and took him out for lunch.”

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt said sadly. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. We already know what he's like,” Blaine said. He could almost hear Kurt biting his lip on the other end, trying to swallow back all the words he wanted to use to describe Blaine's father. “I know it's stupid of me to be bummed about all this, it's just... it feels like Christmas should be _more_ , you know?”

“It's not stupid,” Kurt murmured, and he sounded wistful. “We all want to live a goddamn Christmas movie. It's just that real life doesn't usually go that well.”

“What happened, Kurt?” Blaine asked, unable to stop himself any longer. “You seemed happy to get to come back to see your family.”

“And I was. I am,” Kurt answered earnestly. “It's just... I don't think I told you about my brother, did I?”

Blaine frowned in confusion. “No, you didn't. I mean, I've seen the picture of your family in your room and I know your dad married your stepmother when you were in high school, but... what's going on? Do you not get along with him?”

“He died,” Kurt said, and Blaine's blood went ice cold, breath stuttering in his chest. He had not expected Kurt to say that. “When we were nineteen.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine whispered, at a loss for words. “I'm sorry. I didn't...”

“It's okay,” Kurt reassured him immediately. “You didn't know.” He heard Kurt take a deep breath. “It's just... it's never been the same, since. I don't think Carole ever got passed it. I don't think my dad got passed it. I get to pretend, while I'm away, but when I'm here... all I can see is that he's not here. His place at the table is empty. His room is empty. Can you imagine, having to live with that absence every single day? I hate that they lost their son, that Carole lost her only son.”

Blaine wanted to say something, anything that would comfort Kurt, but realized that what he needed was to talk, probably in a way he couldn't with his parents, not without opening up old wounds that were somehow still too fresh.

“I miss him, Blaine,” Kurt said, his voice so low he almost didn't hear him. “It was hard for us at first, to learn how to be brothers. But once we understood it was about being there for each other despite our differences... it was everything. It had been only my dad and I for so long, it felt weird to suddenly have a bigger family. Everything changed and it was wonderful. And then he was gone.”

Blaine closed his eyes and thought about Cooper. They fought and rarely saw eye to eye, but Blaine loved him, and he knew his brother always had his back, even if he was a clueless fool most of the time. If something ever happened to him, Blaine didn't know what he would do. A world without his brother seemed so dull...

He wished Kurt didn't have to know that pain.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Blaine reached for a pillow and hugged it to his chest as he listened to Kurt breathe in and out, so rhythmically that it was obvious he was trying to keep himself in control.

“Are you...” Kurt began to ask, only to get interrupted by Blaine.

“I would love to,” he said.

Kurt exhaled shakily again, before he said: “His name was Finn.”

Blaine didn't know how long he laid on his bed, pillow hugged to his chest, staring at the ceiling as Kurt talked and talked and talked about his brother – about the time Finn had dressed in a shower curtain to emulate Lady Gaga and show Kurt he had his back; about the time Finn had believed he found Jesus in a sandwich (Blaine laughed so hard his stomach hurt); about their parents wedding, when Finn asked him to dance with him in front of all their guests because he knew how hard it was for Kurt to never be able to dance with a boy; about all the little things they had shared while living together, all the talks and the silly arguments. About Finn asking Rachel to marry him during their senior year (Blaine's heart hurt just thinking about Rachel, about how she never really dated or talked about her love life when it seemed to be all everyone else could talk about sometimes), only to call off the engagement so she could go after her Broadway dreams with no strings attached.

There were a million anecdotes, and Kurt told every single one with such warm affection that Blaine wanted to reach through the phone and pull him into a hug. He wished he could. He wished they weren't miles apart.

Kurt's voice was a little hoarse when he finally stopped – if from talking or crying, Blaine didn't know. They stayed silent for a long moment, just content with listening to each other breathe, being together despite not being together.

“Thank you for telling me about Finn,” Blaine said at last, and Kurt hummed in reply. “I think I would have loved getting to know him.”

“Everyone loved him,” Kurt said with a little laugh. “It was obnoxious but inspiring, I guess.”

“I miss you,” Blaine blurted out, not really sure where the words were coming from. But he didn't take them back when they were out. They felt right. They were true. “I wish we were back in New York already. I really want to hug you right now.”

“I miss you, too,” Kurt whispered.

There was a sound outside his bedroom – maybe Cooper was finally done talking to his girlfriend, or his mom was back from visiting her friends. Either way, Blaine knew he was about to get interrupted. “Merry Christmas, Kurt. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

“Okay, thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too,” Kurt said, and then, after a second's hesitation, he added: “And Blaine?”

“Yes?”

“Don't let your dad being an asshole bring you down, okay? If he can't see how amazing you are, then that's his loss. You have a lot of people who love you exactly for who you are, no questions asked, no conditions.” Kurt paused and then said, in a lighter tone, clearly trying to diffuse some of the tension and the pain from their conversation: “And don't forget you owe me a hug as soon as we meet again.”

Blaine laughed. “Trust me. I won't forget.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Blaine stayed there, still staring at the ceiling, still hugging his pillow. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend it was enough.

Eventually he got up and went in search of his brother. He was suddenly overcome with the need to give him a hug, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update of the year! It's crazy to think 2020 has come to an end. I know it's been a dumpster fire for most people, but I hope everyone can focus on at least one positive thing that happened this year. One of mine was definitely being welcomed back into this fandom after a bit of a hiatus with arms wide open. I wasn't expecting anyone to still be here after all this time, and yet... it's been amazing sharing Flowers in the Window and Sing to me Instead with you this year (and the little S&H one-shot!), and I hope you're ready for more next year. I'm very grateful for your support and love.  
> Happy New Year, guys. Let's cross our fingers for a better one. Please stay safe.  
> I'll see you on Saturday for the first chapter of 2021.  
> With love and gratitude,  
> L.-


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021! I hope this year is filled with love, health and positivity for you all.  
> Thank you for your comments on the last chapter – I'm very happy that we all hate Eli equally. Blaine is a little thick-headed, I know, but he's slowly coming to his senses.  
> Huge hugs and a lot of love for Christine, my friend and beta.  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from Hurt Me Once.  
> Enjoy!

_I'm sure it was nothing_ _  
_ _But you never used to bring somebody else along_ _  
_ _Used to be our thing_ _  
_ _Going to a movie, then we wander home_ _  
_ _All these little landmines_ _  
_ _All these little things that one can read two ways_

* * *

The door to the loft slipped open noisily and Rachel peeked outside, smiling as she saw Blaine standing there, wrapped in a thick scarf, snowflakes caught on his beanie and long eyelashes.

“Hi, Blaine!” She said, waving him inside. “Come on in, you must be freezing!”

Blaine slid into the loft gratefully, making sure to stomp his feet to get rid of the snow before making a bee line towards the heater in the corner. He held his hands above it, trying to give life back to his frozen fingers. He had forgotten to grab gloves before he left the apartment.

“Where's everyone, Rach?” He asked, as she came towards him and grabbed the totebag he was carrying. “I'm not too early, am I?”

“Oh, not at all. If anything, everyone else is late,” she replied as she went towards the kitchen and began to empty the bag. The potato salad and chicken parmesan he and Kurt had cooked the previous day were placed on the counter. “Santana wasn't in the mood to cook desert so she and Brittany ventured out to the bakery. I think Brittany was in the mood for pie. And Mercedes just texted that she and Sam just got in a cab. I don't know about Kurt, though.”

Blaine glanced at his wristwatch. “He must be getting out of his first rehearsal as we speak. He was really nervous this morning, so I hope it went okay.”

Rachel hummed happily. “Oh, it'll go great. He's been waiting for this opportunity for so long, he'll work his toned little butt off to make sure it's worth it.”

“I can't wait for him to get here and tell us all about it,” Blaine said with a big smile. He had been thinking about Kurt the entire day. He had looked a little pale before he walked out of the apartment that morning, but there had been a determination in his eyes that Blaine had missed seeing. He had given him a big hug before sending him on his way.

Rachel grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and showed it to Blaine in silent offering. Blaine nodded and Rachel walked back towards him as she said: “So how was Ohio? My parents came to visit me here this year, so I didn't make it back. Not that I miss it at all, really.”

“There's nothing to miss,” Blaine chuckled. “It was okay. How was your Christmas?”

“Hanukkah,” Rachel corrected. “And it was lovely, thank you.” She paused for a moment, and Blaine could see her actually grasping for words, which was weird for her. “Kurt told me... Kurt told me he talked to you about Finn.”

Blaine's heart clenched painfully for a moment as he looked at her. She had a little smile on her face, but he could see the reflection of an old grief in her eyes. “He did, yes.” He extended his arm and Rachel moved in gratefully, cuddling up to his side. “I'm so sorry. I can't imagine going through what you guys went through.”

“Thank you. I still miss him, but...” She stopped, and her smile became too tight. “Oh, well. As he used to say, the show must go all over the place or something.” She must have seen the confusion on his face, because she laughed, genuinely now. “He was... one of a kind. I know you must have seen pictures of him in Kurt's room, but would you like to see some videos? I still have some of them in my phone, from old Glee rehearsals.”

Blaine dropped a kiss to the top of her hair and let her guide him towards the couch. “I would love to.”

Rachel grabbed the thick crochet blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over them as they sat close together. She played one video after the other, and Blaine watched, torn between sadness and amusement. Finn was a bright guy, talented and goofy, and he could see why Rachel had loved him. She dropped her head on his shoulder as they watched old footage from dance rehearsal, and she laughed as tears fell down onto Blaine's sweater when Finn kept tripping, his big body too clumsy to follow the choreography half as gracefully as his teammates.

“Thanks for sharing this with me,” he whispered into her dark hair.

Rachel hummed in response and wiped at her tears. “Don't tell Kurt I showed you these. Not today, at least. I don't want him to be sad when he finally has a reason to be happy.”

Blaine nodded, but his eyes were still fixed on the phone, where he could now see a younger Kurt cheering on his brother after he finally got his steps right.

They were still on the couch when their friends started arriving, first Santana and Brittany carrying bags from the bakery a few blocks over, shaking the snow from their hair, then Sam and Mercedes complaining about the traffic. They were all bumping against each other in the kitchen, trying to get dinner ready, by the time the door slid open one last time and Kurt entered the loft.

“Hey, there's our new Broadway star!” Mercedes exclaimed happily, moving towards him to wrap him in a big hug.

Blaine dropped the knife he had been using to carve the chicken and approached Kurt, helping him out of his coat when he saw him groan. “Sore, already?”

“I should have practiced my dancing as much as I practiced my singing,” Kurt replied, scrunching his nose at him, but he looked so happy. “We didn't think of that.”

“I'll draw you a bath when we get home. I have some Epsom salts that will help,” Blaine said, as he put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and took him to the couch. “For now, sit and rest while we finish up dinner.”

Instead of using the dinner table, this time they scattered around the coffee table in the living room so Kurt could stay on the couch where he was more comfortable, and they passed food around as he told them about his first day and his castmates. It had been a long time since he had sounded so excited about something – Blaine wasn't sure he had ever heard him like this, actually – so they asked him question after question, as if every one of them wanted to keep him as happy as he was in that very moment.

“Well, now that you stopped feeling sorry for yourself,” Santana started, when there was a pause in the conversation, and Rachel tried to shush her before she said something mean, but Blaine had learned by now that there was no stopping Santana. “How about you finally agree to go on that double date with us?”

Brittany clapped, enthusiasm clear in her face. “Oh, Kurt, please! Jonathan is _so_ cute. We could go and have dinner together and you two would look so pretty sitting next to each other.”

Kurt chuckled and twirled his fork in the air. “You know what? Set it up,” he said, and Brittany cheered. “New year, new Kurt Hummel. No more pity parties. No more sitting around waiting for boys who are across the ocean, no more settling for less.”

Blaine smiled at him, because he loved seeing Kurt feeling confident, but he couldn't explain why he suddenly felt a heaviness in his stomach he hadn't felt a minute before. He pushed his plate away. He was done eating for the night.

* * *

It had been a long day – a long _week_ , really, filled with too many essays and too many students and too many obligations – and Blaine was so happy that it was finally Friday that when Sam texted him that he was nearby and in the mood to grab a beer, Blaine immediately agreed to meet him at the bar two blocks away from campus. Sitting with his best friend in a booth in a bar was the best way to unwind, and Blaine felt himself relaxing against the seat as he craddled his beer and listened to Sam talk about his own busy week.

Sam had promised Mercedes he would pick her up at work and take her out to dinner, so he and Blaine parted ways relatively early. As he walked back to his apartment, Blaine thought maybe he could talk Kurt into going out for pizza with him. The weather wasn't as cold as it had been the past few weeks, and he thought they should take advantage of it.

He opened the front door and, as he began to shred his winter layers, exclaimed: “Honey, I'm home!”

Kurt's reply came from down the hallway: “Hey! You're home later than usual. Is everything okay?”

Blaine dropped his bag on the couch before following Kurt's voice towards his bedroom. “Yeah, just met Sam for a drink.” He stopped as he reached the doorway to Kurt's room, where he was standing in front of the mirror, buttoning up a lovely shirt with a pattern of flowers in shades of blue, which he had matched with ocre-colored pants that seemed painted to his long legs, they were so skinny. Blaine let out a low whistle. “Wow, you look fantastic!”

Kurt scrunched his nose adorably as he looked at him. “Do you really think so? I'm not sure about this shirt with these pants.”

Blaine leaned against the wall and smiled at him. “Really. You look amazing, Kurt.” He enjoyed watching the pleased glow on Kurt's face as he turned back to the mirror, as he whispered a quiet _thanks._ “Does this mean you have plans?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt said, as he walked towards his closet to find a coat that would match the rest of his outfit. “I have that double date with Santana and Brittany.” He rolled his eyes as he grabbed a lovely dark blue peacoat. “God, I hope this isn't a total disaster.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine,” Blaine reassured him as he followed him out of the room. He placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze. “Text me if you need an excuse to get out of it at any point, and I'll call you and pretend I fell down the stairs or something.”

Kurt laughed. “This why you're my favorite. Alright, wish me luck!” He said, as they got to the front door. “Here goes nothing!”

And just like that he was gone and Blaine was left staring at the closed apartment door.

It was as if his entire week's weight suddenly fell on his shoulders. He felt tired but restless, disappointed in a way he couldn't explain, and so, _so_ moody out of nowhere that it knocked his breath out. His day had been long but nice – why was he so upset now? He was finally caught up on all his homework, hanging out with Sam had helped him relax, and he was looking forward to spending his weekend trying to put some lyrics and melodies in order. There was no reason, absolutely no reason, to feel like _this_.

Running his fingers through his hair, he broke through the barrier of gel, a few stiff curls bouncing to freedom, as he made his way towards his bedroom. He pulled his sweater and shirt off, stripped off his jeans and changed into his workout clothes before turning towards the bag hanging in the corner. Maybe all he needed was to blow off some steam.

He strapped the gloves on before giving an experimental punch to the bag to test his balance. His whole body vibrated in relief – boxing had been his favorite way to get rid of the tension for years now. Soon he lost himself in it, throwing punches in quick sucession, feeling the strain in his muscles, the sweat that began to pool on his chest, on his back, to trail down his face.

It was stupid to be upset. There was no reason to.

It felt like there was a hole opening up in his chest, gaping, aching, making it hard to breathe.

He punched the bag even harder.

Soon he was panting, his shirt drenched in sweat, his whole body sore with exertion. He wrapped his arms around the bag and leaned against it, closing his eyes tightly. He didn't feel any better, if anything, he felt sick.

Maybe he should call Eli.

He jumped into the shower and let the water wash away the exhaustion. He knew Eli would come and keep him entertained if he called him, but Blaine didn't feel like it, not tonight. But what he had been in the mood for today, he couldn't have. Because Kurt had a _date_.

Oh. It couldn't be, could it? He wasn't upset because Kurt had plans that didn't include him. They could go out for pizza or drinks any other night. Kurt had gone to his weekly gig the previous night. He was more than entitled to have plans without his roommate.

Maybe their lives had become so intertwined lately, that Blaine had forgotten that he wasn't supposed to spend every minute of every day with Kurt.

And he really needed to stop thinking about Kurt while he was in the shower, because things would border on creepy soon.

Blaine walked into his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his curls still wet, and fiddled with his phone, his finger hovering over Eli's contact. It would be so easy to call him. It would be so easy to let him distract him...

He dropped the phone on his bed, and fished his pajamas out of his dresser. He would just work on his music tonight. He would play the piano for a while, wait until Kurt got home. He would probably want to talk to Blaine about his date. Blaine just wanted to make sure he'd had a nice time, that was all. He wanted to make sure Kurt would have someone to dish with after meeting this new guy Santana and Brittany kept saying was _so wonderful_...

So Blaine sat at the piano and played. His fingers worked without him having to even think, the music flowing around him, filling that hole in his chest, keeping him together even though everything felt so weird at the moment. He closed his eyes and played and didn't question why he was feeling this way. He used the melody to express himself – he had always known he could rely on this, on his music, to express everything he was feeling without having to fight for the right words. They could come later on, if needed. For now, it was enough.

He played. The melodies felt dissonant, like he couldn't quite get his fingers to move over the keys just right to make them sound exactly what he wanted.

Frustrated, he paused and started all over again. It all felt as jumbled as his thoughts. He couldn't put them in order. He forced himself to stop thinking, and kept playing and playing and playing, until there was nothing else but the piano and its music, and he forgot where he was and who he was.

He forgot about everything and just played.

Time became irrelevant – Blaine might have played for twenty minutes or three hours. He forgot to have dinner. He played. There was a lyric somewhere, on the edge of his mind. Maybe if he played long enough he would be able to catch it.

He felt a little breathless – it felt like he was pouring his heart into it with every stroke of the keys – and he paused for a moment, leaning slightly forward, his eyes closed, his lips parted. That's when he heard the keys jiggling in the lock and the front door opening. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Kurt walking into the apartment.

Alone.

He let out a long, long exhale.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, finding a smile for his friend. “You're home!”

Kurt arched an eyebrow teasingly in his direction as he unbuttoned his coat. “Did you think I wasn't going to come back?”

Blaine laughed and moved from the piano to the couch, staring up at Kurt expectantly. “How was your date?” He asked.

Kurt carefully folded his coat on the back of the couch before dropping down next to Blaine. “It was... interesting?”

“Is that good or bad?” Blaine asked curiously as he pulled on Kurt's arm.

Kurt willingly allowed himself to be tugged closer until he was leaning against Blaine's side. He folded his long legs on the couch and pressed his head to Blaine's shoulder. “Neither? Both? I'm not entirely sure. I mean, he was everything Brit and Santana said he was – charming and attractive, funny and definitely not boring,” he said and then hummed pleasantly as Blaine began to thread his fingers through his hair. “But I guess I kept waiting for our chemistry to kick in and it never really did? Or maybe I'm too used to being in a long term relationship and I've forgotten what it feels to meet someone new.”

“Well, you _were_ with Adam for a really long time,” Blaine replied thoughtfully. “I guess it might take some getting used to...”

“He was a really great fit, though. Maybe I should see him again before I make a rush decision...” Kurt murmured, tracing circles on Blaine's knee distractedly.

Blaine let out an awkward chuckle. “A great fit? Is he a guy or a pair of jeans?”

“Shut up,” Kurt protested, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. It's not that easy to come across interesting, available, attractive gay guys who are good kissers and dress well...”

“Wait, good kisser?” Blaine's stomach churned. He felt sick again. He tried to ignore it. Maybe he should have eaten...

“He insisted on walking me home and he kissed me goodnight,” Kurt said, shrugging. “It was nice. I haven't kissed anyone since Adam left, and I missed it.” He paused to yawn and then added, sleepily: “Kisses are nice...”

Blaine swallowed. There was something thick and sour stuck in his throat. “Yeah, they really are.”

Kurt slightly turned his face into Blaine's neck. “You smell nice. What were you up to tonight?”

Blaine breathed. Once, twice. And then a few more times, for good measure. “Not much. I worked out a bit, showered, played the piano. Nothing special.” His brain felt foggy. Maybe he was coming down with something. “What did you have for dinner?” He asked, just to say something, just to keep Kurt talking, just so he wouldn't have to move. Just to give his brain a chance to clear.

“Oh, some chicken, but the girls chose the restaurant and it was one of those places where every portion is, like, tiny,” Kurt said, and his fingers curled around Blaine's knee. Blaine wondered if he even noticed he did that. “So I'm actually still super hungry.”

“Want to go get pizza? I was actually going to ask you when I got home earlier but I didn't know you had a date,” Blaine murmured into Kurt's thick, soft hair. “I haven't eaten so I'm hungry, too.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kurt practically moaned, immediately standing up and grabbing Blaine's hand to pull him off the couch. “Pizza sounds amazing. Please go get dressed so we can go get some right now.”

Blaine laughed but obliged. He put on the first clothes he could find in his closet and five minutes later, Kurt was pulling on his hand to get him to hurry up, and they left their apartment, laughing and joking, keeping together to ward off the late night chill as they navigated the streets of New York towards the pizzeria.

Blaine's bad mood evaporated. The hole in his chest seemed to fill instantly. The sick feeling in his stomach disappeared. But he was too busy staring at the way Kurt's face lit up as he smiled, sparkles in his blue-green-gray eyes, to even notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAKE UP, BLAINE.  
> At least he didn't call Eli, huh?  
> Can't believe we only have seven more chapters left. I should probably stop procrastinating and keep working on the next one.  
> Thank you for reading and I'll be seeing you again on Wednesday!  
> L.-


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!  
> As usual, I need to thank you all for your love and support for this story. It honestly blows my mind how positive everyone is (except when it comes to Eli, but honestly... same). Thanks for taking the time to read and review.  
> My love and gratitude belongs forever to Christine, my beta.  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from the song And So Will I.  
> Enjoy!

_Well, I can't fight your battles  
But I sure can hold your hand and promise you_

_That the sky will still be up there  
And the sun will always shine  
The stars will keep on falling  
For the ones who wish at night  
The mountains won't start moving  
And the rivers won't run dry  
The world will always be there  
And so will I_

* * *

With a quiet groan, Blaine pushed the books away and let his head fall onto the table for a moment. He closed his eyes, willing away the headache that was trying to build from his temples. He was grateful for the silence, broken only by the shuffle of coats or the scratch of pens on paper as people took notes. He could have stayed at the library forever, simply resting his weary head.

It had been a long day, with three private lessons to teach, two classes and then hours sitting at this table checking book after book, doing research for his Musical Bibliography project. As soon as he had started taking that class this semester, he had known it would be the one to kick his ass for the forthcoming months, and he hadn't been wrong.

He opened his eyes long enough to check the time. Kurt was probably already home from rehearsal. He should head back so they could have dinner, and maybe afterwards Blaine would be able to convince him to stay up long enough to watch a movie. He needed a distraction – any distraction – from the piles and piles of work he was going to have to deal with in the next few days.

Pulling himself up from his seat – he had been here for so long he could swear he left a butt indentation on the chair's padding – he began to pick up his laptop, and notebooks. He was in the mood for Thai food. Maybe he should text Kurt and ask him if he wanted him to pick something up before he went home...

Blaine left the library, the early February chill instantly enveloping him, making him stop to adjust his scarf. Everywhere he looked, there were already Valentine's Day decorations. It was as if New York had turned into a huge cloud of pink and red cotton candy. It wasn't cold enough for a taxi, so he decided to walk and clear his head instead. He took his phone out of his pocket to text Kurt, and started to type the message. He was about to send it when he turned a corner, and practically collided against a couple making out against a coffee shop's wall.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he apologized immediately, as the smacking, wet sound of lips breaking apart echoed in the night. He blinked as the two boys turned their heads in his direction. He almost dropped his phone. “I... Eli?”

Eli blinked at him dazedly, that way he always looked after a particularly intense kiss. He didn't remove his arm from around the other guy's waist. “Oh, Blaine, hey.”

Blaine felt anger bubbling in his stomach, ready to boil over. “What the hell, Eli?”

Eli finally pulled away from the other boy, with a quick whisper of: “Give me a second, okay?” that only made Blaine more furious. He moved towards Blaine, hand raised as if to grab his arm. “Blaine, let's talk...”

“No, I don't want to talk!” Blaine exclaimed, taking a step back so Eli couldn't touch him. “So this is why you couldn't come work on your project with me? Is this what you do every time I ask you to hang out and you say you're busy?”

“Look, you're clearly too upset,” Eli said sharply, as if Blaine was the one acting out of line here. “So if you want to talk to me when you calm down, just give me a call, alright? But you don't get to scream at me like this...”

Blaine scoffed in disbelief. “I can't believe you just... oh you know what, _screw you,_ ” he retorted and turned around to walk away from them, from the boy still pressed to the wall as if he was ready to resume making out as soon as Blaine stopped being inconvenient, and from the boy who had spent hours mapping Blaine's body with his tongue.

His heart was pounding so loudly he couldn't even hear his own thoughts. All he knew was that he needed to be elsewhere, anywhere.

He wasn't in the mood for walking anymore. He stopped the first cab he saw and climbed in. All he wanted was to get the hell away from here.

* * *

Kurt stood in the kitchen, regarding the contents of their fridge. It had been a long week, and it was only Wednesday, and neither him nor Blaine had found the time to go grocery shopping, so the options weren't exactly enticing. He wondered if Blaine would be okay with having eggs for dinner – maybe an omelet? – or if he would prefer to order food instead. Kurt was tired, very tired, after another long yet wonderful rehearsal, his muscles sore in the best way, and all he wanted to do was to eat anything, the easiest thing, and just slip into bed. He had been thinking about sliding under his sheets practically since the moment his alarm went off this morning.

But Kurt was happy, though, if exhausted. He was finally exactly where he had always wanted to be. It didn't matter he was just in the ensemble – he was part of a Broadway production, and it was only the first step. Everything was coming up Kurt.

He reached for his phone, thinking about texting Blaine to consult him on his thoughts on dinner, when the front door opened and immediately banged close, so forcefully it made the glass in the windows rattle. Eyebrows rising to his hairline, Kurt left the kitchen in time to see Blaine coming into the living room.

“Hey,” Kurt said carefully. It was obvious Blaine was upset. “What's going on?”

Blaine ran his hands through his hair, breaking off the gel, his curls springing to freedom, and started pacing, but didn't look at Kurt.

“Blaine, come on,” Kurt caught his arm to stop him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Blaine's eyes were so big, Kurt could have sworn he could fall into them, huge pools of honey and whiskey swirling endlessly. He looked up at Kurt, pleadingly. “Do you think we could... go somewhere?”

Kurt blinked in confusion. “Go somewhere?” He repeated, and Blaine nodded. “I guess? But you have to tell me what happened first.”

Blaine swallowed and then pressed his forehead against Kurt's shoulder. “I just saw Eli kissing someone else.”

“Oh honey,” Kurt murmured and wrapped his arms around Blaine tightly, pulling him into a proper hug. “I'm so sorry.”

“I feel really stupid and I want a distraction,” Blaine mumbled against Kurt's sweater. “Can we please go out?”

Kurt thought about his warm, welcoming bed and sighed. It would have to wait a few more hours because there was no way he wasn't doing everything in his power to cheer up Blaine first. His friend needed him. “Sure. Where to?”

“Somewhere I don't have to think,” Blaine replied, only causing Kurt's arms to go a little tighter around him.

Kurt really didn't like the sound of that, but he followed Blaine out the door anyway.

* * *

The thumping of a bass reverberated in Kurt's ribcage as he navigated through the dark club, too many sweaty bodies around him, trying not to spill their drinks. He found Blaine at the little table in a corner, right where he had left him, munching absently on a plate of cheese fries Kurt had insisted they needed to eat before starting on the alcohol. He was not getting bat-shit drunk – he had rehearsal in the morning and it was already hard enough getting through it sober.

Blaine reached almost greedily for the beer in Kurt's hand and took a large sip.

Kurt glared at him as he took the seat opposite him. “Easy, Blaine. I'm not dragging you home unconscious.” He sighed as he watched Blaine put his glass down rather sheepishly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Honestly? No,” Blaine said, running a hand down his face tiredly. “I don't think I can talk about it yet because I don't know what I feel. I'm just... angry.”

“It's okay to be angry,” Kurt replied, sipping his rum and Coke slowly. He decided this would be his only drink and then he would switch to water. “What he did wasn't okay.”

Blaine downed the rest of his beer before Kurt could stop him, and stood up. “Do you want to dance?”

Kurt, who had danced all day, wasn't really interested in doing so, so he lifted his drink and said: “Maybe in a bit? I want to finish my drink first.”

“Okay, come find me when you want to,” Blaine said, and began to thread through the swaying bodies moving along to whatever electronic music was playing that was threatening to give Kurt a headache soon.

Kurt leaned against the wall, eyes on the dancefloor, watching Blaine as he popped fries into his mouth. Blaine hadn't gotten very far, and he could see him perfectly from their table. He was immediately surrounded by three guys who began to dance near him, getting closer and closer with every pulse of the music, crowding Blaine. Kurt sat up, a little alert, but so far Blaine didn't seem to mind, and though the sight pushed uncomfortably at him, Kurt guessed there was no reason for him to intervene. Blaine had wanted to come to a gay club. This was probably exactly what he had been looking for.

A few guys approached his table to ask him to dance or offer him a drink and Kurt kept waving them away, barely glancing at them before his eyes snapped back to Blaine on the dancefloor, who seemed to be getting more and more popular as the song (or songs? They all sounded the same to him) progressed. Kurt had to admit that he looked good out there – his hair was dishveled, finally free from the gel, and the bowtie around his neck was undone. He kept gyrating his hips in a way that should have been cataloged as pornographic, his head was thrown back, his lips slightly parted, his eyes closed...

God, it was unfair how stunning he was.

One of the guys surrounding him finally moved close enough to wrap his arm around Blaine's waist and pull him close to his body. Kurt's stomach swooped in an unpleasant way and he was out of his seat and heading towards the mass of sweaty bodies bouncing along to the music before he could even register what he was doing.

Blaine had opened his eyes to look over his shoulder at the stranger gripping at him and noticed Kurt joining him on the dancefloor, his lips stretching into a gorgeous smile that had Kurt's heart emulating the rapid boom-boom-boom of the music. He extended his hand towards him, and Kurt grabbed it, pulling him close to him and away from all the other greedy boys looking at Blaine as if he was nothing but a yummy piece of candy they couldn't wait to taste.

Blaine collided against his body with a breathless laugh, immediately throwing his arms around Kurt's neck as Kurt's wrapped around his waist. He glared at the people around them over Blaine's shoulder, hoping he was conveying the heat of his bitch glare even in the near darkness of the club.

“I thought you didn't want to dance,” Blaine said into his ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps on Kurt's skin.

He tightened his hold on him, and Blaine was solid and warm against him. “I changed my mind,” he practically growled.

He didn't know what had gotten into him – he felt ridiculously possessive, protective. He didn't want any of these jerks taking advantage of Blaine, touching him. His blood boiled with the closeness, with the heady scent of Blaine's sweat, with his huge eyes once again staring up at him, and Kurt felt like Blaine expected him to have all the answers, answers to questions Kurt hadn't even begun to ask himself.

Blaine kept moving to the rhythm of the pounding music, Kurt following mostly by instinct. They were so close, he could feel every inch of Blaine's body against his. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Blaine's fingers slipped into Kurt's hair, tugging slightly, making Kurt's breath hitch. “You know what we should do?”

Kurt blinked at him as Blaine rolled his hips in a way that was plain dirty. No. He couldn't. Was he really suggesting...? “Are you saying...?”

“We should do shots,” Blaine said, licking his lips. “Shots are awesome.”

“Shots are a terrible idea,” Kurt groaned. Everything was a terrible idea at the moment. “Why don't we sit down and talk for a while?”

Kurt made as if to pull away and head back to their table, but Blaine clutched at him, bringing him back against his body.

“Not yet,” he practically whined, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Dance with me a little more.”

And how was Kurt going to say no to that?

* * *

It was past midnight when they stumbled back into their apartment. Kurt grabbed Blaine by the back of his coat before he could face-plant onto the floor, and he cursed under his breath. He should have stopped Blaine from drinking sooner – it had been obvious he was upset and trying to distract himself from it, and alcohol wasn't the best solution.

But Kurt had been distracted, too. The way Blaine had touched him, held him, as they danced... Kurt still felt a bit dizzy. Like the ground under his feet had suddenly disappeared and he'd had to struggle to stay afloat. Drowning, drowning, drowning in Blaine's scent, in the heavy weight of his arms around him, in the brush of his lips against the tender skin of his neck...

Kurt helped him lean against the wall for support as he closed the door and took his coat off, before turning back to Blaine to help him with his, but Blaine took him by surprise by grabbing his arm and spinning them until it was Kurt's back against the wall, Blaine's chest flushed with his.

“Blaine?” He murmured, a little breathless.

“You looked so beautiful on that dancefloor, I just...” Blaine murmured, licking his lips, bringing Kurt's eager eyes down to them. And god, he _ached_ , he ached just looking at him. “I just wanted...”

Kurt's hands flew to Blaine's shoulders and held on for dear life. He was drowning again. “What did you want?”

Blaine's fingers were digging into his hips so firmly that Kurt was sure he would have bruises in the morning. The idea of finding them, dark and stark against his pale skin, blunt memories of Blaine's proximity, made him whimper under his breath.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine said, shaping his name as if it were a moan more than a word, his pupils blowing wide, black swallowing every bit of warm whiskey.

Kurt couldn't figure out who moved in first, and he guessed it didn't matter, not really. Their lips collided, a little too hard, teeth clashing against each other, the kiss already open-mouthed and desperate from the start. Blaine tasted like the sweet, pink drink he had downed at the club before they left, and Kurt found himself licking greedily into his mouth, chasing for it. His entire body seemed to be on fire, flames of desire lapping at him from the tips of his toes, up his legs, towards his crotch and his stomach. He felt wild and out of control, and though the kiss wasn't perfect, he couldn't get enough.

He wondered how long he had been dying for this kiss without even allowing himself to know it.

It was that thought that made him pull away, despite Blaine making it awfully hard for him to do so. He tried to pull him back, his lips so pink and swollen already, so devastatingly handsome with the curls framing his face and the brightness of his eyes. Kurt didn't want a drunken kiss, as hot as it was. He didn't want to wake up the next day and realize Blaine had forgotten all about it. He didn't want this to be a one night stand, or a mistake.

He wanted more. He wanted everything, and it scared him, because Blaine was his roommate and one of his best friends, and this could ruin everything.

But the way Blaine was looking at him... it had to mean something too, right?

Kurt wanted to ask him, but he wasn't sure he could trust the answers Blaine would be able to give him tonight.

He reached for Blaine's hand, a gesture so tender after the heat from the kiss, that it seemed to startle Blaine. He ran his finger over his knuckles gently, and looked right into those hazel eyes that made his stomach shrink and expand, shrink and expand.

“Come on,” he said, and guided him towards the kitchen. “You should drink some water before you go to bed.”

“Kurt...” Blaine murmured, pleadingly.

“Tomorrow,” Kurt said, and it sounded like a promise. He looked back at Blaine, and begged him to understand. “Tomorrow, okay?”

Blaine didn't seem to understand, not really, but he nodded anyway, slowly, a little dazed, like looking at Kurt was too distracting to try to figure out what he meant.

Kurt made him drink two glasses of water and then helped him into bed, not daring to help him change clothes, deciding it wouldn't hurt to let him sleep in his jeans for one night. He removed his shoes and pulled the blankets over him. He was about to make his way out of the room when Blaine caught his hand again, like he couldn't stop holding it.

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered, and Kurt wasn't sure what he was thanking him for.

Kurt leaned in and pressed a swift kiss to his forehead.

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night, his lips still tingling pleasantly.

* * *

Blaine woke up the next morning with a groan, and the first thing he saw was the glass of water and the two white pills on his nightstand. Propped against the glass was a note in Kurt's curvy and neat handwriting: _Had to run to rehearsal. Take these as soon as you wake up. See you tonight, Kurt._

Blaine did what the note said and then buried his face in his pillow again.

* * *

By early afternoon, Blaine felt slightly more human again. He didn't remember drinking that much, but it must have been more than he thought to feel like this. Or maybe he was turning into a lightweight. Either way, he wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

He dropped into the first available seat he could find and hid his face in his arms. He was a little early to his lecture, but he was glad for the extra minutes of quiet. His professor had a booming voice and he wasn't looking forward to this class at all. He would have stayed home, but it was a hard class, and Blaine didn't want to miss it. Sometimes the exams were based on class discussion, so he really needed to be here for it and take notes.

There was a loud thud and Blaine looked up to find Eli taking the seat next to his.

“You look like shit, Blaine,” he said as way of greeting.

Blaine could feel his blood boiling. “Well. You have some nerve.”

Eli arched an eyebrow. “Are you seriously still upset?”

“Did you think I would forget?” Blaine asked back, his words sharp.

Eli ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly irritated. “Look, I'm not going to apologize for what happened yesterday. You had no right to make a scene like that...”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Blaine exclaimed, straightening even more in his seat. He really couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Did you really think I would be okay with you kissing another guy? Did you think I was going to ask you to introduce us?”

“Blaine, _I'm not your boyfriend_ ,” Eli said, leaning closer as if to make sure Blaine understood. “I can't believe I have to spell it out for you. We never said we were exclusive. We have fun together, but we never said we were boyfriends. You are great in bed, you're really hot, but you're not my boyfriend.”

Blaine blinked at him slowly, feeling stupid. Of course they had never talked about being exclusive. Of course Blaine had never assumed... oh, why had he drunk so much last night? It was so difficult to navigate his thoughts and his feelings when he was like this...

“I don't want to end what we have, because seriously, it's some of the best sex I've ever had,” Eli said with a charming wink. “But if it's not enough for you anymore, then you have to let me know, because I don't have the time to deal with jealousy or to explain myself to you or to anyone.”

Blaine didn't have time to process his words or reply, because most of their classmates started trailing into the room, followed closely by their professor.

Blaine did his best to pay attention – that's why he had dragged himself out of bed, at least – but he couldn't stop thinking about what Eli had just said. He had been so upset last night, had he been an idiot? Did he really forget what his relationship with Eli was like? It was true that they had never had a real conversation about where they were headed, but maybe deep down inside he had hoped...

Hoped for what, he wasn't sure.

As their professor turned to the blackboard to write something down, Blaine closed his eyes and felt as if he was suddenly slapped in the face. The images from the previous night returned all at the same time, so suddenly that they gave him whiplash. He had kissed Kurt, trapped him against the wall, would have probably pulled him down the hallway and into his bedroom if it wasn't because Kurt put a stop to it...

Oh god, Kurt put a stop to it. What the hell had he done? How would he face his roommate again, ask for his forgiveness? Blaine hadn't meant to cross the boundaries – he never did, but apparently he kept doing that, over and over again. He was a horrible friend...

The professor dismissed the class, pulling Blaine so abruptly from his own internal freak out that he sat there in confusion for a few minutes as everyone around him moved to leave the room.

Eli stood up and looked at him, quizzically. “Are you going to just stay there?” Blaine shook his head and began to shove his things into his bag. “Why don't we go to your place? Let me remind you why our arrangement is so perfect...”

The flirty tone, the sensual smirk... Blaine was so familiar with it. He stood there and looked at him, and thought about Kurt, Kurt against the wall, Kurt against his body, Kurt dancing with him...

Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.

He couldn't think about Kurt this way. It would ruin everything.

* * *

It had been an extremely long day.

Focusing on his dance steps hadn't been exactly easy considering Kurt's head was filled with thoughts of Blaine: Blaine glued to him on the dancefloor, sweaty and gorgeous; Blaine stumbling through the front door and pulling at him; Blaine's lips on his, off-center yet perfect...

Blaine, Blaine, Blaine.

He tripped and started all over again under the watchful gaze of the choreographer, but it still didn't mean he stopped thinking about Blaine.

There was something there, he had to admit. They had chemistry. They had become friends so easily, and Kurt had never been the kind of guy who felt comfortable around other people so easily. But with Blaine... everything was different with him. They were drawn together, magnetically, and it was so easy to sit with him, to snuggle against him as they watched a movie, to laugh with him, to share even his deepest fears with him.

And if Kurt let himself be honest with himself, the attraction had been simmering under the surface for months now. And it wasn't something physical, exclusively. Oh, no. Kurt's heart had been compromised, too. He was developing feelings for him.

Kurt wasn't stupid – he knew it could mess everything up. They lived together, they were friends. Kurt didn't want to lose him now that he had him, now that he had become such an important part of his life. But there was something inside of him, something he couldn't ignore, something that told him he needed to take this chance.

And after last night, Kurt was hopeful that Blaine felt the same way.

So after rehearsal, Kurt stopped at Blaine's favorite deli and picked up some rotissery chicken and salad, and some gooey brownies that were still warm from the oven as Kurt walked home, the heat passing through the bag and warming his cold fingers. There was still some ice cream in the freezer to go with them, and a bottle of wine in the pantry. Maybe Kurt could set the table with a few candles, and oh, he should have gotten flowers, shouldn't he? But it was too late to go back now, unless he wanted to risk Blaine making it home before him.

At this point, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he walked in and Blaine was sitting on the couch or already working on dinner. Kurt knew his schedule well enough, knew he only had one class today, so unless he stopped by the library for some research...

Oh, he was a mess already. He felt so nervous.

But he was determined, he realized as he slipped into their building. Even if things had become clearer after last night's events, Kurt had felt as if they had been dancing around this thing for a while now. It was easier to spot the signs, the things he had looked past, the little touches he hadn't interpreted correctly...

They were good friends, weren't they? They could talk about this. They could figure it out together.

With a heavy sigh, Kurt walked into the apartment. It was quiet, so he guessed he had made it home before Blaine after all. He marched into the kitchen, feeling energized and excited, and began unloading his purchases onto the kitchen counter...

“Oh hey, I thought I heard the front door!” Blaine exclaimed from behind him.

Kurt turned around, startled. “Oh, I. Hi.”

Blaine was standing against the breakfast bar wearing pajama pants, and nothing else. He smiled shyly at Kurt. “How was your day?”

“Good, you know... same old, same old,” Kurt said, wishing he didn't sound like a fumbling teenager. “What about you? Feeling better? You were quite upset yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that,” Blaine murmured, scrunching his nose adorably and _yes_ , this was it. Blaine was going to bring it up first. “Eli is... in my room.”

Kurt had been reaching into a cabinet for a salad bowl and paused. “He's... what?”

“We talked today,” Blaine shrugged nonchalantly. “He basically reminded me that we never said we were exclusive, so technically he didn't do anything wrong. He's right. He's not my boyfriend, not really. So, uhm. He's here.”

“I see,” Kurt managed to choke out, the words feeling like sandpaper on his tongue.

“And I wanted to apologize,” Blaine continued, and damn his eyes for being so earnest and beautiful. “I didn't mean to make things so weird last night. I shouldn't have...”

“It's fine,” Kurt cut off, because he couldn't keep listening to him. He needed him to shut up. “It's completely fine, really. You don't have to say another word. Why would you need to apologize? You were upset. It's fine to be upset. Sometimes you do crazy things when you're upset, and it's not like I care, it's not like I...”

“Kurt, you're rambling,” Blaine interrupted, coming closer, hands raising as if he wanted to grab him, and Kurt couldn't handle it if he touched him. “Are you sure you...?”

“I'm fine,” Kurt said automatically, quickly. “Like I said, I understand.” He looked at the food he had bought, at the plans that laid derailed in front of him, and he couldn't stand being there for another second. “Okay, so I thought you might still be upset and I stopped at that deli you liked and picked up some food, so you and Eli should eat if you haven't yet...” He walked away from the kitchen, still talking a mile a minute. “I have to go.”

Blaine blinked at him, clearly having trouble following his rant, worry creeping onto his face. “Kurt... where are you going?”

“Santana,” Kurt blurted out. “She had a stupid argument with Brittany. She texted me. She wants to meet. So I'll go meet her. But I had already bought the food and thought you might be hungry. But I'm leaving. Because of Santana.”

“Kurt...” Blaine started again, following him to the front door. “You don't...”

“Enjoy dinner!” Kurt exclaimed, his voice a little high, and left, the door closing swiftly behind him, and right in Blaine's face.

Kurt took the steps two at a time, almost running, until he was out in the street again, the cold night breeze on his face. He stood there breathing, breathing, breathing, and he promised himself he wouldn't cry.

There was no reason to cry. He hadn't lost anything. You can't lose something you've never had.

 _I was planning dinner, I was planning how to tell him, and he was with him. He was fucking_ him _. I was thinking about him and they were together. I thought he would realize... I hoped he would..._

So much for hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T HATE ME. JUST HATE ON ELI, OKAY?  
> I'll see you again on Saturday!   
> Love,  
> L.-


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, my dearests :)  
> Thanks so much for all the great comments on the last chapter. I know Blaine's obliviousness is getting frustrating, but we're getting closer to the end, so... maybe things will work out soon? ;)  
> Kudos and love to Christine for being the best beta ever.  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from Older, a truly lovely song.  
> Enjoy!

_Have I killed my thoughts right before their prime?  
Have I bit my tongue one too many times  
Have I said it all the way I really meant to?  
If I wait 'til my tomorrow comes  
Is the waiting all I've ever done?  
And will I get to, get to know myself in the place I am  
Get to fall in love with another man and understand?_

* * *

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

The tears stung in his eyes but he stubbornly refused to cry. There was no reason to.

Kurt lifted his hand and knocked on the door – it was late and he didn't want to scare the girls by letting himself in – and waited. Breathed in, and breathed out.

Rachel slid the door open, a green face mask on, her features stiff, only her big eyes moving and showing some curiosity until she found her friend standing in the hallway. “ _Urt_?” She asked, her lips barely shifting to let the sound out.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He said, and though he tried to hide it, he could see Rachel noticing just how broken he felt.

The mask cracked on Rachel's face when she frowned in concern and reached out for her best friend. “Oh honey. Of course. Of course you can stay.”

Kurt stepped into the loft, and wished he could leave his broken heart outside.

* * *

Blaine woke up the next morning, the other side of his bed long cold and empty, not even the imprint of Eli's head in the pillow, and walked into the kitchen to find that Kurt wasn't there, as he usually was. He frowned in confusion and, after checking his room, found that the bed was made.

He texted him, trying not to let the worry eat at him, and immediately got a reply saying he had stayed with the girls and that he would see him tonight.

Blaine put the phone down and went back to the kitchen. He didn't like how empty it felt, even emptier than his bed.

* * *

His last student of the day walked out the door and Blaine sat at the piano, feeling the silence of the apartment settle over him. It had been a lot like that in the past week – Kurt was rarely home, often running from rehearsal to meet with the girls, coming home late when Blaine was already in bed, if he even came back at all.

Blaine hated it.

He _missed_ Kurt. He missed their chats, missed having breakfast with him every morning while they talked about their plans for the day. He missed sitting next to him on the couch and watching a movie, or getting home after a long day to have dinner with him and talk until they were too sleepy and they moved into the kitchen to do the dishes side by side, hips and arms and elbows bumping into each other, sharing small smiles as they passed plates and pots to each other...

Had he ruined everything? He had, hadn't he? Nothing had been the same since that night at the club, and Blaine hadn't meant to screw everything up and now he didn't know how to fix it. He just wanted things to go back to normal, he wanted Kurt to be a big part of his life again. He hated this. He hated being at the apartment. The past few months it had finally started feeling like a home, and now that feeling was gone again. It was just a roof over his head, a place to sleep. Kurt had made it a home the moment he moved in.

* * *

Sam was sitting at the bar when Blaine arrived, waved at him to get his attention and turned to the bartender to order a beer, all before Blaine had time to get from the door to the stool next to his.

Blaine took a seat and wrapped his fingers around the cool glass of the bottle. “Hey, sorry I'm late. The subway took forever.”

“Dude, what the hell is going on with Kurt?” Sam said, clearly not in the mood to beat around the bush.

Blaine choked on his sip of beer. He slowly put the bottle down on the sticky wooden counter and turned to look at his friend. “I... what do you mean?”

“I don't know, man,” Sam said, clearly frustrated. “Mercedes has been going over to the loft a lot, and I can tell there's something going on. Every time I'm around everyone gets really quiet, and Kurt looks like a sick puppy, and Santana glares at me like it's my fault. But I only see Kurt on Mondays for potluck dinner and on Thursdays for your gig, and I haven't done anything to him, so I assume it has to be something else...”

“Shit,” Blaine said and ran his hand through his hair, which made Sam raise an eyebrow at him. That gesture usually meant Blaine was feeling stressed or nervous. “Yeah... I think it might be my fault?”

“Fuck, Blaine, what did you do?” Sam groaned. “Don't get me in trouble with Mercedes.”

“What do _you_ have to do with it?” Blaine asked, confused.

“You're my best friend. He's her best friend. I don't know how, but I'm sure if something goes wrong, this will end up being my fault because you're in his life because of me,” Sam explained. “Just... what the hell happened?”

“I kissed him,” Blaine admitted. Sam's eyes widened. “But I was drunk! Which... I guess doesn't really make it any better?”

“No, it makes it worst, dude!” Sam said, and punched him on the shoulder, not as hard as he could have, but still hard enough to make Blaine wince. “Why did you do that, Blaine?”

Blaine dropped his face onto his forearm. “I don't _know_.”

He told Sam everything, filled him in on every detail, on the events that had led him and Kurt to the club and then on what had happened once they stumbled back to their apartment.

“I don't know what to do,” Blaine whined after he was done. Sam studied him in silence as he sipped his own beer. “Do I talk to him about it? Do I keep ignoring it until it goes away?”

There was more under the surface, Blaine knew. Questions he wasn't ready to ask out loud, not even to himself, and especially not to Sam.

“Look, there has to be a reason why Kurt's sort of avoiding you,” Sam said, leaning a bit closer as if he needed his words to get through Blaine's thick head. “I can't tell you what they are. I don't know. I think Mercedes knows. You'll have to find out for yourself. But this won't work if you don't talk to him, if you don't figure it out. You two live together, your whole lives are intertwined...”

“I don't want to lose him,” Blaine found himself saying. “But I don't know what that means.”

Sam stopped and really, really looked at him, in a way that seemed to Blaine like he was able to see past his skin, past his bones, to where he kept it all hidden away. He nodded swiftly, mostly to himself, it seemed, and then pressed his hand heavily on Blaine's shoulder. “I think you do know. You're just too scared to see it.”

And Blaine knew – even though he wasn't capable of putting it into words, not now, not yet, it was too tender, too fleeting, it could all go away so soon if he reached for it and he wasn't ready to grasp it – he just knew, that Sam was absolutely right.

* * *

Fingers poised over the keyboard, Blaine closed his eyes, always chasing after the right words, the right verse, the perfect rhyme. It had all been so elusive lately, even though he could feel it right there, on the tip of his tongue, on the tip of his fingers. He sighed in frustration and pulled away from the piano, standing up and walking to the kitchen for some water, and then stood there, the cold counter digging into the small of his back as he drank and purposefully ignored the silence.

He reached for his phone and checked his messages – the last three he had sent to Eli remained unanswered, ignored. It was always like this with him, Blaine realized. Eli only texted back when he was in the mood, when he wanted something from him, when he was horny. After they had made up the previous week, nothing had really changed, and Blaine wondered if he had been stupid enough to expect things would be different. Eli wasn't going to start acting like a perfect boyfriend – that's not what he was, and Blaine didn't want him to be. But what Eli had to offer had stopped being enough long ago, only Blaine had been too comfortable and afraid to admit it.

He headed towards the couch and dropped down heavily onto the cushions. He was tired and jaded. Relationships weren't supposed to be like this, but if he was completely and truly honest with himself, he wasn't sure what they were supposed to be like, either. Every single relationship he had witnessed in his life had been dysfunctional – his parents' mainly, and some of Cooper's, as well as some of the incredibly twisted ones he had seen start and end at the blink of an eye during high school – and he had never been able to visualize himself in one that was any different. Surely love had to be nothing but a fairy tale, right? There was no way people actually fell in love and stayed in love, not hurting each other every single day...

What he had built with Eli had made so much sense to him in the beginning. They had fun together and had great chemistry in the bedroom. But Blaine wanted someone who would listen to him when he was upset, not someone who would show no interest. He wanted someone he could watch a movie with, not just drag into bed. He wanted someone who would stay til the morning, not disappear as soon as he got down from his orgasm.

He wanted to be someone's boyfriend, not someone's boy toy.

And he was getting really tired of being used but not understood.

He had been afraid of commitment once, of spending his life with someone because he was supposed to and not because he wanted to, of settling down with someone who ended up being the wrong person, of going through life bitter and unsatisfied, like his parents.

But what he had now – it wasn't any better. And Eli didn't care about him, not really, not even as a friend. Maybe he had at some point, but since then he had stopped trying because he knew that it required no effort whatsoever to get Blaine to sleep with him.

God, Blaine had been really stupid, hadn't he? And after seeing him kissing some other guy, he had just agreed to let it slide and stayed with him?

He should have known better. He should have had a bit more respect for himself. He might not be perfect, but he had dignity, and he didn't deserve this. He deserved more. He deserved to find true love, if such a thing even existed...

Maybe it was time he started taking the first steps into finding it.

* * *

There was a knot in his back that had been bothering him all week, and Kurt tried to massage it as he opened the door and stepped into the apartment. He hadn't been home much lately, but he was tired, couldn't even think about commuting all the way to Bushwick after such a heavy rehearsal and then back again in the morning...

And he couldn't avoid Blaine forever. Eventually, he needed to get over himself.

It had been a kiss, nothing else. There was no reason to ruin everything because of a silly, spur-of-the-moment kiss.

Kurt began to shred his layers as he moved from the door – coat, scarf, even his boots because his feet were killing him – after he dropped his bag carelessly on the floor. He needed to get out of the clothes he had worn to rehearsal and get some laundry done soon, but right now he had no more strength and no more energy. He just wanted dinner and a bath, and hopefully he would be in bed before he knew it.

However, as soon as he stepped into the living room, he found a sad, Blaine-shaped lump on the couch, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Hey...” He said tentatively.

Blaine opened his eyes and glanced up at him. “Kurt, you're home.”

Kurt ignored the way his heart clenched painfully in his chest. “Yeah, I'm really tired, so I'm going to take a bath and...”

“Can you...” Blaine stopped and shook his head, clearly frustrated with himself. “Can you sit with me? Just for a little while?”

He looked so pathetic, wrapped in a blanket, his big eyes on him, pleading and eager, that Kurt couldn't say no. He hadn't spent time with Blaine properly in over a week, and he missed him, missed his friend and roommate, the guy he was used to coming home to every day.

He realized he hadn't really been mending his slightly broken heart by staying away, he had only been cracking it even further. He missed Blaine. Even if nothing happened between them, which was fine, it had never been the plan anyway, he cherished their friendship more than anything. Blaine had been there for him during some hard, trying times. He had given him his hand and pulled him out of the darkness when he couldn't find his way. He couldn't turn his back on him now, no matter what.

Slowly, Kurt approached the couch, as Blaine sat up and lifted one end of the blanket as if to invite him into his little cocoon of warmth. Kurt reluctantly accepted, though he tried to keep enough of a distance between them that they wouldn't brush against each other as they shifted.

Blaine was clearly having none of it, though, because he scooted closer until he could drop his head on Kurt's shoulder. “I missed you this week,” he said in a soft, tentative voice. “Is everything okay?”

Kurt's breath hitched slightly and then he slowly began to relax. He couldn't deny how nice it was to be here with Blaine. He would deal with his stupid feelings later. He had missed this so much, missed Blaine so much... “It is now,” he whispered.

Blaine was silent for a long, long moment, and Kurt allowed him to, waited, because he knew Blaine would tell him what was going on when he was ready. And it was nice to just be with him like this, Blaine pressed against him. It would be so easy to lift his arm and wrap it around Blaine, pull him even closer, tuck him to his side like a missing puzzle piece that would fit so, so nicely...

“I broke up with Eli,” Blaine blurted out at last.

Kurt tensed. Not this again...

“Well, not really.” Blaine scoffed. “You can't break up with someone you really weren't with in the first place.”

Kurt took a deep breath and chastised himself – he needed to get over his own issues and be there for his friend now. “What happened?” He asked, and now he did lift his arm, but instead of wrapping it around Blaine, he pushed his fingers into the loose curls at the base of his neck.

“I didn't like the way he made me feel about myself,” Blaine muttered quietly, almost brokenly, and it made Kurt's chest hurt. “I'm not... I'm not great at relationships, and it was my fault that I let this get as far as it did. I haven't had the best role models when it comes to adult relationships and loving relationships, and I thought what he had to offer was comfortable and easy and it was just... I don't know. Very toxic in the end, I think. I shouldn't have forgiven him after last week...”

“You really shouldn't have,” Kurt said before he could stop himself, his tone sharp. He closed his mouth immediately, frantically searching for something to say to excuse himself.

Blaine looked up at him, his head still on Kurt's shoulder as if he didn't want to move. “I'm sorry about everything.”

Kurt felt as if he was choking. He hadn't thought Blaine would bring it up... “It's okay.”

“It's not,” Blaine muttered and he looked so sad, so upset, that all Kurt wanted was to hold him forever. “It's really not and we should... we should talk about it.”

Kurt's stomach felt as if it was filled with stones. If Blaine wanted to talk about it and said it wasn't okay, then it meant he regretted the kiss, something Kurt had suspected after he had immediately gotten back up with Eli, but to have the confirmation...

“Not tonight,” he said, hoping he could deflect enough for Blaine to forget about it. “You're upset. It can wait.”

It looked like Blaine wanted to protest, but after hesitating for a few moments, he simply closed his eyes and nuzzled further into Kurt's shoulder, _which wasn't helping at all_.

“It's not Eli I'm upset about, not really. I guess he was a distraction. I've always known things wouldn't get serious between us and I didn't really mind,” Blaine explained, still in a quiet, small voice. Kurt began to absently rub his back. “It's just... what if this is all I have to offer? What if I never fall in love? What if I'm incapable of making someone happy, incapable of finding someone to make _me_ happy?”

“Oh honey,” Kurt said, tilting his head until his lips were pressed to Blaine's forehead. “We all think that, at one point or another... we all think there's something terrible about us that will make everyone look past us. It's just part of being human, doubting, being afraid...”

“I screw everything up,” Blaine almost whined, his fingers finding Kurt's sweater and grabbing onto it. “I don't... I don't like hurting people. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I don't want to be hurt. I don't want to be alone either, I just... how do I...”

“Hey, hey,” Kurt murmured, looking down at him in concern. “Shh, it's okay. Blaine, come on...”

It would be so easy, Kurt realized, to lean in and press his lips to Blaine's, to quiet his fears with a kiss... but it wouldn't be right. Because Blaine was upset, and because Kurt didn't think he wanted it.

And Kurt felt devastated, deep inside of him, because he knew they had the potential to be amazing together. He looked at Blaine and the world opened up before him, a realm of possibilities and love, and it scared him, really. It scared him too, to feel like this after just one drunken kiss.

But all Blaine wanted, all there would ever be between them, was friendship. And Kurt realized he was okay with that, if it was the only offer on the table. He would take it.

Having Blaine Anderson in his life – he decided, as he tightened his arms around him and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in the crook of his neck – was the most important thing, even if this was all there ever was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BYE ELI. NO ONE'S GOING TO MISS YOU.  
> Hope you enjoyed! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter :)  
> Love,  
> L.-


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!  
> Thank you so much for all the amazing comments on the last chapter. I hope you're not mad at Blaine anymore.  
> Love, love, love for my beta Christine.  
> Lyrics for this chapter come from the song Honest Man (it's so good, I wanted to use this one for every chapter, but obviously... couldn't).  
> Oh, and there's a little Easter egg in this one. Let's see if you can find it :)  
> Enjoy!

_'Cause I see every part of you_ _  
_ _And I can tell you see me too_ _  
_ _By the way that you say my name_

* * *

Everything seemed to go back to normal after that night. Despite the pending conversation hanging over them, heavy and capable of changing everything, they were so happy to have each other again that they didn't make any extra effort to bring it up.

Kurt was glad they could put the embarrassment of sharing that kiss behind them, buried his broken heart deep within him and focused on everything else – rehearsals, which were getting more and more intense, and his friends.

Blaine knew he was supposed to say something, but he didn't. Not yet. He felt as if he was tilting towards something, something that was just out of reach and he couldn't see yet, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing, didn't want to risk hurting Kurt's feelings if... if... if what, he wasn't sure. He felt confused and lost, split open like a wound.

For now, he was happy, or happier than he had been recently, especially when he sat next to Kurt on the couch to flip through the channels on the television at night, or when he saw him come through the front door, tired but satisfied, or when he woke up every morning to the scent of fresh coffee and the sight of Kurt working at the stove, spatula in hand and gorgeous smile on his face.

The apartment wasn't empty and silent anymore. It was back to being a home, and neither of them wanted to give that up.

* * *

Hurrying down the last set of steps, Kurt entered the platform and looked around for a familiar face. He spotted him near the end, in the already familiar green peacoat, a totebag hanging from his arm, as he typed something on his phone. Kurt made sure the box of cupcakes he was holding was in perfect conditions before he navigated through the throng of waiting New Yorkers and towards Blaine.

Blaine looked up, a smile already pulling at his lips as his eyes found Kurt. “Hey! You made it! I was about to text you.”

“Sorry, rehearsal ended a little later than planned,” Kurt replied. “And I wanted to get something at this bakery near the theatre.”

Blaine glanced at the box curiously. “Oh, what is it?” He leaned closer as if he could smell the treats through the cardboard, mostly only giving Kurt a chance to breathe in his raspberry gel and cologne.

“Cupcakes,” he said as the train entered the station and everyone started shuffling closer to to the edge of the platform. “They make these really exquisite cupcakes with a hint of honey in the buttercream and some drips of syrup over them... they're delicious.”

“Can't wait to try them, then,” Blaine grinned.

They got on the train before the doors closed and found a spot where they could stand. It was really crowded though, and people seemed to keep pushing them closer and closer until Kurt was practically plastered against one of the walls, and Blaine's chest was only an inch away from his. He could feel Blaine's warm breath against his neck when he laughed or talked, and he tried to focus on keeping the cupcakes safe instead, but it was really hard.

“So what did you bring?” He asked, to try and find a distraction.

“Sloppy Joes and cole slaw,” Blaine said, beaming. “Sam and I used to make them all the time when we lived together and I haven't eaten them since.”

A curl had broken free from the gel on Blaine's temple and Kurt was dying to tuck it back into place. “Sounds delicious.”

Blaine began telling him about one of his students of the day, a girl he was sure would be a piano prodigy one day. Kurt loved his enthusiasm as he talked, the softness of his voice, the little huffed out laughter. Blaine had always been interesting to him, from the very first moment they had met, but lately... lately he seemed so enticing that Kurt could barely bear to take his eyes off him.

The train gave a little jolt and Blaine tilted forward, grabbing onto Kurt's waist as not to fall onto the person standing next to them. Kurt also instictively reached out and wrapped his arm around his shoulders to keep him from falling. The small, almost private smile that Blaine flashed at him then threatened to turn his insides into molten lava. But Blaine simply kept on going with his story, as if nothing had happened, his hand still curled around Kurt's waist, fingers digging just a bit more firmly than necessary, so Kurt allowed himself to keep his arm around him.

He was sad when the train finally made it to Bushwick.

Everyone was already at the loft when they arrived, and the whole place smelled of food and was filled with laughter and conversation. Blaine held the box of cupcakes carefully, inspecting they hadn't gotten crushed on the train ride over, while Kurt removed his coat and scarf, and then Kurt grabbed Blaine's coat and his own and took them into Rachel's room to drop on her bed, with a whispered thank you from Blaine as he moved towards the kitchen to help with dinner.

Kurt had barely made it past the curtain that poorly acted as walls when Santana, Mercedes and Rachel cornered him.

“What's going on?” Mercedes asked in a hushed voice.

“You and Blaine seem super cozy together, did something happen?” Rachel almost squealed.

“You don't have that sweet after-sex glow, so I guess you two are still being idiots,” Santana commented, earning a quick glare from Kurt.

“Can you all shut up?” He said, tugging on the curtain to make sure it was properly closed, as if that would be able to stop the sound of their voices from carrying out into the rest of the apartment. “Nothing happened. We just... made up, I guess. We're good friends. That's all that matters.”

“Those sweet little touches? That's not something you do with a friend,” Mercedes insisted, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow at him.

“What sweet little touches?” He asked in confusion. “Are you insane?”

“Oh please!” Santana exclaimed, and the others tried to shush her. “He brushes against you like a cat in heat.”

Kurt tried not to think about the way they had held onto each other in the subway. “Don't be ridiculous. He's made it abundantly clear that he's not interested.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Mercedes said. “Kurt, there's so much chemistry between you two, it's amazing. And I think he and Sam talked about you, but he wouldn't tell me anything...”

Kurt couldn't deny that his interest had been piqued, but he tried his best to hide it, because he didn't want to have to deal with any false hopes that would get crushed more easily than a box of cupcakes on a crowded train. “Look, I appreciate that you all had my back while I was a little upset after our kiss, but honestly... Blaine and I are friends, best friends, even. That's not something either of us wants to risk, I think.”

“But you like him,” Rachel said, her big eyes on him, capable of reading even the best kept secret.

He let out a little sigh. “Of course I do. He's amazing.”

“Then don't be so afraid to take another step that you end up losing something that could be so good for you,” she said softly. “You and I both know those chances don't come around too often. Life's fleeting, Kurt. Don't waste time on being afraid.”

That made all of them pause. Kurt looked at her – really looked at her in that way that spoke of too many years together, too many heartbreaks shared. She hadn't really dated since Finn – only a guy or two here and there, but none had been around long and she had never looked happy. He knew she wanted to move on, wanted to be happy, but the weight on her heart was still too great. It was still so, so heavy on Kurt's heart, too.

He grabbed her hand and pulled gently until he could press his lips to her forehead.

Before any of them could say another word, Brittany pulled the curtains open and looked at them quizzically. “What are you guys doing? Is this some sort of secret meeting? Because Santana said I wasn't allowed to join a cult.”

Santana immediately wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and began explaining that this was most definitely not a cult, as the others followed them out of Rachel's room.

Rachel held on a little tighter to him for a few more seconds, and then walked away to help the boys in the kitchen.

* * *

After they finished eating, Sam said he wanted some fresh air and went out into the firescape, not without shooting a meaningful glance at Blaine first. Sighing, Blaine stood up and followed him outside.

There wasn't much room on the firescape to sit, so they stood instead facing each other. Blaine wrapped his arms around himself – it was a chilly night and he hadn't grabbed his coat – and leaned against the fragile railing, hoping it wouldn't give way and send him to his death.

“So, you look a little better,” Sam commented, failing at being nonchalant. “Are you dealing with the Eli thing okay?”

“There's no _Eli thing_ ,” Blaine groaned. “It wasn't even a real break up.”

“But you still have to see him in class, so I guess that's no fun,” Sam said.

Blaine nodded. “Yeah, it kinda sucks. Not because it hurts or anything, it's just... so awkward.”

“Because he's seen your booty?” Sam asked with the most childish grin known to human kind.

Blaine rolled his eyes and shoved him a little, mindful of the railing (he didn't want to kill his best friend, after all). “He's done more than simply see it.”

Sam cackled so loudly everyone inside glanced at them with their eyebrows raised, as if wondering what the hell those two were getting up to. Blaine shrugged at them, and he could see Kurt bite a smile as he helped Brittany carry the desert from the kitchen.

“You and Kurt made up?” Sam asked, obviously catching the look.

“Yeah, we're fine,” Blaine replied, and it felt like that word – _fine_ – wasn't enough to describe how good everything felt when he was with Kurt, how relevant each smile, each touch, each word shared with him was...

“You two look...” Sam began to say, and then paused, as if he wasn't sure how to continue. “Blaine, there's something there...”

Blaine didn't say anything. He was still looking inside the loft, and now Kurt was laughing, the sound high and delighted, at something Brittany had just said to him, so carefree and open, happy and simple, and Blaine's heart fluttered in his chest, almost painfully so.

There was something there, he knew it. He had known it for a while now and had kept pushing it down and down and down, out of sight, out of mind, but it was beginning to reach the surface and Blaine didn't know what to do. There was something there and it scared the living shit out of him, but as long as he could keep seeing Kurt laughing just like this, happy as if there was nothing wrong with the world, he would be able to deal with it.

Sam patted his back, as if his silence spoke louder than words, before he went back inside.

* * *

On Thursday, there was an insistent, annoying little drizzle that Kurt tried to shield himself from as he rushed the last couple of blocks to the bar. He walked inside and sighed gratefully – his hair was still pristine, thank you very much – as he made his way to an empty table just to the left of the stage, where he could already see Blaine setting up his equipment for his gig.

The table was small and there was no need for a larger one this evening, since all of their friends had plans. Sam and Mercedes were celebrating some sort of anniversary, Rachel had to work late, and Brittany and Santana had travelled to Ohio for Santana's mother's birthday, and wouldn't be back until Sunday. Kurt had complained about everyone abandoning him, but he knew deep down inside that he wouldn't miss Blaine's show without a good enough reason. He actually enjoyed seeing him play, even though he could listen to him all he wanted at home. It was different here, where Blaine had an audience, something that fed his passion and energy. It was sort of mesmerizing. And he knew it made Blaine happy when his friends came to see him, so there was no way Kurt was skipping only because he didn't want to have to sit alone.

Kurt ordered a virgin Shirley Temple, as he had every Thursday since he had started rehearsals, because there was no way he was getting drunk when he needed to do an elaborate Grand Jeté early the next morning. It was too late into rehearsals to fall flat on his face. He was supposed to be getting better, not worse, and he wasn't taking any chances.

Blaine caught his eye as he accepted a beer from a waitress and placed it on the floor next to the piano. He gave him a little wave, his smile warm and his eyes sparkling, and Kurt felt himself sighing in response. Damn Blaine Anderson for being so damn cute.

Kurt sipped on his drink and texted with Carole for a moment, who had a bit of a fashion emergency. He helped her pick a dress for her dinner out with his dad, shaking his head fondly at how much effort she still put into looking a bit better even though they would probably end up at Breadstix for the millionth time. But it was a long way from acid-wash denim, so he was glad to help her out.

The bar was suddenly filled with some random chords as Blaine settled at the piano and smiled at his audience. “Hi guys. I'm Blaine, and I'm going to play for you tonight,” he said, before he launched into a cover of an Ed Sheeran song.

Kurt nodded along to the music as he continued to sip his drink, ordering another after the third or fourth song. He clapped for Blaine enthusiastically after each one, earning a wink or two from him, and enjoying the way he blushed and looked down at the keyboard when the audience was particularly loud in its appreciation for him.

He began to hum along to the next song – a stripped down, piano version of Something Coming from West Side Story that Kurt had heard him play at home and absolutely loved – when a guy stopped by his table. Kurt looked up at him curiously. He had green eyes and a cute smile, his brown hair tousled out of his face as if carelessly.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a little shy. “I'm Luke. I don't really do this often but... well, my friends were giving me a hard time so I thought I'd give it a shot.” He took a deep breath. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh,” Kurt said a little breathlessly. “That's really sweet of you, but I just got a refill, so I think I'm fine.”

“Okay,” Luke murmured, without really losing his smile. He reached for a napkin and took a sharpie out of his back pocket. “Well, if you change your mind or if you want to maybe get a coffee or go out for dinner... here's my number. You are... well. You have to be one of the most beautiful guys I've ever seen. I would hate myself if I didn't at least try to talk to you.”

Kurt smiled back at him, honestly pleased. “Again, you're really sweet. My name's Kurt.”

Luke shook his hand a little longer than necessary. “It's so nice to meet you, Kurt. I hope you use that,” he said, with a little nod towards the napkin, and then walked away towards a table near the back.

Kurt stared at the digits for a little while, then folded the napkin and slipped it into his bag, just as Blaine's song came to an end.

* * *

Blaine's fingers faltered on the keys, his voice wavered slightly, but he recovered quick enough, he thought. No one had noticed, he promised himself, as he glanced around the bar swiftly, and then back to the one table his eyes had been drawn to all night.

He struggled to remember the lyrics, where he had to place his fingers next. He was lucky his body seemed so in tune with the piano at this point, it directed his hands without him having to actively think about it. He closed his eyes for a moment, the lyrics just there on the tip of his tongue. This song was so familiar. He was not supposed to forget.

The tall, attractive stranger that had been talking to Kurt, so clearly flirting, turned around and walked away.

There was a knot in Blaine's stomach. It was making it really hard for him to control his breathing, to keep singing.

Kurt lifted the napkin where the man had written down, presumably, his phone number. Blaine watched him study it for a moment and Blaine's head filled with the same thought, over and over again: _throw it away, throw it away, throw it away_...

Kurt put it in his bag.

Blaine finished the song, forced a smile on his face, leaned into the microphone. “Thank you, everyone. My next song is a little less show tune and a little more pop,” he said, always the showman, always with perfect poise, because he couldn't let anyone see how he was crumbling down inside.

He began to play the next song – a Jonas Brothers cover that he had been working on for a while now, that he had been so excited to finally play now, to see people's reaction when they recognized his mellow version, but now... now he couldn't remember what he had been so excited about.

Maybe it had been the way Kurt had burst into laughter when he figured it out, how he had turned on the couch to look at Blaine as he played it, a huge smile on his lips. Maybe it had been the way Kurt had teased him, called him ridiculous and sappy, before he walked into the kitchen to get started on dinner. Maybe it had been the way Blaine felt so, so at home when he was with him.

Kurt smiled now, too, and Blaine wondered if he was remembering that night at their apartment or if he was smiling because of the stranger and his number carefully tucked into his bag, like a precious gift he wanted to keep safe.

He played a few more songs, smiling after each round of applause though it felt painful to do so. He joked around with the audience, tried to be as charming as he could, but he felt off. He just wanted tonight to end, wanted the spotlight to stop focusing on him, too afraid its brightness would reveal all the ugliness, all the doubt and all the fear he held inside.

He finished off his beer, which was warm and disgusting by now, before he got off the stage. Kurt was waiting for him at his table, so Blaine approached it and sat down on an empty chair across from him.

“You were wonderful, Blaine,” Kurt said warmly, still smiling, though it seemed a bit uncertain now. “Are you okay? You look a little... off, I guess. Do you feel alright?”

“Just tired,” Blaine replied. “Thank you for coming, Kurt. You didn't have to, since everyone else was busy...”

“You know I wouldn't miss it for the world,” Kurt reassured him, and began to gather his stuff. “Come on, let's go home so you can get some rest.”

As they walked towards the exit, he saw the stranger sitting at a table in the back, his eyes fixed on Kurt as they left, and Blaine had to resist the urge to press a hand to the small of Kurt's back to guide him and, at the same time, to make sure the other guy noticed. He could have punched himself – _I do not own him. He can flirt with whoever he wants. We're just friends._

For the first time, that word sat heavily within him, insufficient.

The weather outside was a stark contrast from the warm, almost suffocating inside of the bar. It had stopped raining but there was a cold humidity hanging in the air like a mist. They began walking home – it would be too much of a hassle to hail a cab for just a few blocks – and Blaine was quiet, uncharacteristically so and he knew it. He was usually so chatty after performing, still happy and energized from it all. But he didn't feel like that tonight, not at all.

He looked down at Kurt's hand, swaying gently beside him as he walked. Blaine felt the aching need to reach for it and grab it, hold it as tightly as he could, make sure he never had to let go...

“Blaine,” Kurt murmured, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Blaine glanced up and found his blue eyes fixed on him. “Are you sure everything's fine and you're just tired?”

How could Blaine explain that seeing a man giving Kurt his number had turned sour every moment of joy he had felt as he played? How could Blaine summarize what his heart and his head couldn't yet agree on, what they had been fighting about for a few days now? How could Blaine find words to describe that with Kurt he felt complete and happy in a way that terrified him?

“Kurt...” Blaine whispered, because that seemed to be the only word in his vocabulary that made any kind of sense.

He stopped abruptly, not caring where he was, because he couldn't take another step unless he was holding Kurt's hand, and he couldn't breathe unless he was looking into Kurt's blue eyes, and he couldn't think unless they were together, and even then, even then everything was confusing.

But the reason was right there, just close enough for him to grasp it, and he didn't dare to.

There was so much he could lose...

“Blaine,” Kurt said again, his voice soft, a little worried, as he tilted his head to regard him when Blaine turned to face him.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him again, kiss him in a way he wouldn't forget in the morning or in any morning that would come after that.

_I want everything with you._

Blaine's heart skipped a beat and then another. Love had always seemed such a foreign thing...

“Blaine, we can't stay here,” Kurt said, now with a bit of a nervous laugh, but there was worry underneath. “We should...”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine repeated, his voice cracking on the one word, the most important he had now. His hand moved forward, just a few inches, just enough to brush the tips of Kurt's fingers.

It could be the first step, if he grabbed it. And if Kurt held his hand in return, there could be so many more steps ahead...

But what if Blaine ruined everything? What if he was just a fool for thinking there could be more? What if he gave in only to see Kurt walk away when it was the only choice left?

And as he asked himself these questions, almost shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation, of hope and despair, he stood in the middle of a New York City street, oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to anything that wasn't Kurt's eyes, and didn't see the yellow taxi that turned the corner and headed straight towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least Blaine seems to be figuring things out? Yay?  
> … I'm going to very slowly back away now.  
> SEE YOU ON SATURDAY, BYE.  
> Love,  
> L.-


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!  
> You all probably want to kill me so let's just get to the chapter, alright?  
> Thanks to Christine for her help, as usual!  
> Lyrics for this chapter are, of course, from In Case You Don't Live Forever (ouch!).  
> Enjoy?

_In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth..._

* * *

There was a numbness spreading through him. He kept his eyes closed, his knees against his chest, as he sat with his back against the wall on a floor in a hallway somewhere. He had no idea how long it had been – long enough, he thought. Someone else should be here by now. Someone should have news.

But Blaine had been alone since they had been rushed into the hospital, only a nurse had stopped long enough to tell him to wait, so that's what he had done. He had stood there, in that same spot, worried that if he moved the doctors wouldn't be able to find him, to take him back to Kurt. He had stood there and called Rachel and Sam, and then promptly let himself slide down to the floor, because his legs couldn't hold him up anymore.

It had all happened so fast.

One moment he had been staring into Kurt's eyes and trying to decide if he should kiss him or not, if he should finally find the courage to do something about this, about this _thing_ that had been slowly but steadily growing between them and that he hoped wasn't one-sided, and the next he was hitting the hard, cold concrete, barely managing to catch his fall with his hands and knees, the screeching of tires on wet asphalt making him turn around in a panic, his heart ready to bolt out of his chest.

Because Kurt had pushed him out of the way.

With his eyes closed, he could see the image clear as day – the taxi stopped, the driver's side door bursting open as a man stepped out, desperate and worried, people already gathering around the vehicle, and only Kurt's shoes in Blaine's line of sight as he scrambled to get up...

“Blaine!”

The voice broke through the fog in his mind, and he dropped his hands, looked up, just in time to see Sam running towards him, Rachel and Mercedes trailing behind him, holding hands as if that was the only thing keeping them from falling apart. Blaine stared up at them, still feeling too numb to do anything else, until Sam grabbed him by the collar of his coat, lifted him up as if he weighed nothing, and crushed him against his chest, his arms wrapping around him so tightly that it was only then that Blaine realized he was shaking, shaking uncontrollably.

Sam pulled away after a long minute, his eyes wandering over Blaine in concern. “Are you hurt?” He asked.

“No,” Blaine replied, his own gaze drifting away, looking around the hallway, not wanting to miss the doctors if they came back. Sam tightened his grip on him, as if forcing him to focus back on him. “I'm not.”

“Blaine, your hands,” Mercedes whispered sadly.

Blaine looked down. He hadn't noticed the deep scrapes – probably from catching his own fall on the asphalt. There was dried blood on his palms and his skin felt rough, like sandpaper. His jeans were ripped at the knees, too, and he could see a dark bruise forming there. He didn't feel any pain.

“I'm okay,” he reassured them, and he couldn't understand why they were focusing on him when Kurt was somewhere here, in a room where they couldn't reach him.

“Come on, let's sit down,” Sam said in a soft voice, and guided all of them a few steps down the hallway towards a set of chairs. He helped Blaine to sit and then kneeled in front of him. “Do you know anything?”

“Not yet,” Blaine answered, as Rachel sat down next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “They wouldn't tell me anything, they just wheeled him out of the ambulance and told me to wait here...”

“I called Santana and Brittany,” Rachel said quietly and Blaine turned to look at her because he knew what she was going to say next. “And I called Burt. They are driving him, because there weren't any flights until tomorrow at noon, and he wanted to drive himself.”

Blaine thought about Burt – a man who had already lost a wife and a son, a man who loved Kurt more than anything in this world – getting the call. He thought about Rachel having to make that call, knowing first hand how scared Burt would be, knowing there was a pain and a loss that they had shared and not wanting to add another.

“I think I'm gonna throw up,” he mumbled, and let Sam help him to his feet and down the hall towards the nearest bathroom.

This was all his fault.

* * *

_I've waited way too long to say_ _  
_ _Everything you mean to me_

* * *

Santana Lopez carried herself with fierceness in every aspect and every moment of her life, and she had decided that something as trivial as traffic laws didn't matter, not if they were going to make this drive longer than it needed to be when she had a man on the edge of heartbreak in the passenger seat.

Which was why she walked into the hospital behind Burt Hummel and holding her girlfriend's hand a little after six in the morning. It was a record that would probably deserve an award if it hadn't been so illegal.

It wasn't hard to spot all their friends – it was a rather sad bunch in the emergency waiting room. Blaine had been nothing but a tiny lump on his chair, but he straightened up and stood as soon as he spotted Burt.

“What happened?” Burt asked, demanded really.

“We got one of the doctors to talk to us,” Blaine informed immediately. “They didn't want to tell us anything because we're not family, but apparently he's stable and should make a full recovery. He uh... he has a concussion, which is the one thing they're a bit more worried about. But the rest should heal with time and rest.”

“I'll go see if I can find someone to tell me a bit more,” Burt said, and then placed his hand heavily on Blaine's shoulder, almost making his knees buck. “Are you okay, buddy? Rachel told me you were with him.”

Blaine nodded, looking almost upset not to be the one in a hospital bed now. “I'm okay.”

“Okay. I'll be right back,” Burt muttered, and walked away looking like a man on a mission.

Blaine collapsed on the chair again as soon as Burt was out of sight.

* * *

_I have a hero whenever I need one  
I just look up to you and I see one  
I'm a man 'cause you taught me to be one_

* * *

Sam was trying to coax Blaine into at least drinking some coffee when Burt came back half an hour later. He spilled the coffee in his haste to get back on his feet, hazel eyes expectant. He could feel Sam's arm coming to rest around his shoulders in silent support while Mercedes reached to grab the styrofoam cup before he could crumple it in his fingers.

“He's awake,” Burt informed them, and Blaine felt himself letting go of part of his tension, leaning most of his weight on Sam, who was fortunately ready to catch him. “He's a bit out of it because of the pain meds they gave him to help him sleep through the night. He's got a couple of bruised ribs and we still need to be mindful of his concussion, but other than that, he's okay.”

“Thank god,” Mercedes mumbled quietly. “Has he said anything?”

“Yes, he has, actually,” Burt replied, and his eyes fell on Blaine. “He's done nothing but ask about you.”

Blaine's heart skipped a few beats. “Me?”

“He doesn't remember much about what happened, at least for now, but he knows you were with him,” Burt explained quietly. “He's worried you got hurt. So I came to get you. He really wants to see you.”

A little stunned, Blaine glanced around the waiting room at all their friends, who had just had one of the worst nights of their lives while they waited for news together. “What about everyone else? They've been worried, too...”

“We'll see him later,” Santana reassured him, in a surprisingly soft tone. “You go ahead, Blaine.”

“I...” Blaine hesitated for a moment, as Sam began to push at him insistently to follow Burt. “Okay. Okay, I'll go.”

They had moved Kurt into a room on the second floor, so Blaine followed Burt towards the elevator and watched as he pushed the button and waited for it to arrive. He wrung his hands nervously as Burt walked into the empty elevator, and then Blaine pressed the palm of his hand on the doors to keep them opened, but did not walk inside.

“This is my fault,” he said to Burt, and even though he was trying his best to control his emotions, his voice shook, betraying him. “I shouldn't go see him. This is my fault. I stopped in the middle of the street like an idiot to talk to him, and I didn't see the cab until it was too late, and he pushed me out of the way and he... Mr. Hummel, I'm _so_ sorry. I never meant for him to get hurt.”

Burt grabbed his arm and gently pulled him into the elevator so the doors could close behind him. “Blaine, this is _not_ your fault...”

“It is,” Blaine insisted desperately. “I shouldn't have stood there. I should have done something. I should have realized that I was being stupid, but I just... I couldn't think and he was there and all I wanted was to...”

He stopped abruptly, feeling as if every word he was saying was choking him, and realizing he was saying them to Kurt's father of all people. The elevator seemed to move at a glacial pace.

“Look, we can't change what happened,” Burt said as the doors opened again, and he gestured for Blaine to follow him down the hallway. “All we can do now is be here for him, and help him. And whatever was going on between you two... you'll figure it out, kid. But stop thinking this was your fault, okay? Accidents happen. Let's just be glad we only have to deal with two bruised ribs and nothing worse than that.”

There wasn't time to say anything else because Burt was pushing a door open and ushering Blaine through it. It was a rather small room, and Blaine's eyes immediately fell on Kurt, who was lying in a bed, sheets pulled up to his chest. As soon as he heard the door, Kurt tried to sit up, which only made him wince in pain, gasping out a breath as Burt hurried to his side and helped him back down.

“Stay still, Kurt,” Burt said, in a tone that told Blaine he'd already said that several times. “Let me recline the bed a little, but don't sit up...”

Kurt kept his eyes tightly closed as his father did that, looking uncomfortable and in pain, but he finally opened them, and they immediately fell on Blaine. His face softened, and he lifted a hand.

“Blaine, you're alright...” he muttered in clear relief.

Without wasting a single second, Blaine crossed the room towards him, grasping his hand between his own. “Kurt...” He looked at him, avidly, as if afraid he would find more injuries that the doctors hadn't discovered yet. “You're... are you okay?”

“Hurts like hell, but I'm fine,” Kurt mumbled, sluggishly. “You... you didn't get hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Blaine laughed and cried at the same time, and tilted his head into his own shoulder to wipe the tears that had begun to trail down his cheeks. “God, Kurt, don't ever do that again, you hear me? You scared the living shit out of me.”

Kurt glanced down at their hands, his thumb slowly tracing circles into Blaine's palm. “You hurt your hands.”

“I don't care. It's nothing. Don't worry about it,” Blaine said, bringing Kurt's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You don't have to be a hero, Kurt. What you did... that was so stupid.”

“I couldn't let you get hurt,” Kurt replied quietly. His blue eyes were fixed on Blaine, and even if he still looked a bit sleepy, he seemed like his usual self, and it calmed Blaine a little bit.

“You're so silly. So silly,” Blaine whispered, still pressing kisses to his hand.

They had forgotten Burt was still in the room with them, only remembering when he spoke. “The doctor said he can't do any physical activity for at least four to six weeks, maybe eight. We should call his theatre company.”

Kurt's grip tightened and his eyes filled with tears. “I'm going to lose my job.”

“No, you won't,” Blaine said, even though he couldn't be sure. “You'll be dancing again in no time, and I'm sure you'll be ready by the time tech week rolls around. I'll help you in any way I can, alright?” He waited until he saw Kurt nod before looking at Burt. “I'll call them. Don't worry.”

“I'm tired,” Kurt mumbled.

Blaine reached out and brushed back a strand of hair, mostly because he couldn't stop himself. He felt as if his heart was on the verge of exploding. “It's okay. Just go back to sleep. We'll be here when you wake up.”

“I'm glad you're okay,” Kurt's voice was so low that Blaine almost missed it, his eyes already closed, and he drifted off to sleep.

Blaine bit his lip, trying to keep himself from crying, because this was not what Kurt needed right now. So he leaned in and pressed his lips to Kurt's forehead and, before pulling away, he whispered: “I'm glad _you_ are okay.” He smiled teasingly, even though Kurt couldn't see him or hear him anymore, and added: “My hero.”

When he pulled away, Burt Hummel was looking at him, but he said nothing.

Blaine refused to let go of Kurt's hand for a long time after he fell asleep. He held it, just like he should have held it last night – maybe if he hadn't hesitated for so long, maybe if he had been brave enough to reach for it and take it like he so desperately wanted, Kurt wouldn't be hurt now.

Being afraid, Blaine realized, as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Kurt's chest as he slept, was a waste of time.

* * *

_I, I've carried this song in my mind  
Listen, it's echoing in me  
But I haven't helped you to hear it _

* * *

Soon after that, Burt sent everyone home, claiming they needed to rest. Blaine began to protest, saying Burt had been awake and worrying all night long, too, and that he himself should get some rest.

“This is my son, Blaine,” Burt had said, with an amount of pride and love in his voice that Blaine had never heard in his own father's voice. “I'm not going anywhere. But all of you need to go home.”

After a long argument, they all came to an agreement. Rachel would stay with Burt, in case he needed anything, while everyone else went home. Blaine would get a few hours of rest and would come back to stay with Kurt through the night while Burt went to their apartment for a few hours of sleep. No one was 100% happy with the arrangement, but it was the only compromise they could reach.

The sun was bright in the sky when Blaine slipped into his bed, fresh from the shower, his ruined jeans in a heap on the floor to be discarded later. He was bone tired and yet he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking back to the previous night, to everything that could have gone so right, to everything that had gone so wrong.

He was so happy that Kurt was okay. He would never forget those few seconds it took him to stand up and rush back to the cab – he would never forget the way his stomach had churned at the thought of what he would find. He would never forget the way his heart became paralyzed when he saw Kurt lying on the damp, cold street.

 _He's okay, he's okay, he's okay_ , he reminded himself as he tossed and turned, but his heart was beating away in a wild rhythm, like a scared little rabbit that's fallen into a trap.

Before he knew what he was doing, he kicked the blankets off and stood up. He shuffled out of the room and down the hallway, stepping into Kurt's room, where everything was always so tidy, where everything seemed to make sense. He pulled the blankets back on the bed and fell into it, Kurt's scent enveloping him like a warm embrace, and he buried his face in Kurt's pillow.

If he could turn back time, he would have reached for Kurt's hand as soon as they stepped out of the bar. He would have sung him a love song. He would have pulled him into a kiss. He would have stopped chasing away dreams as if they were nightmares.

He fell asleep as certainty filled his heart.

* * *

_We, we've only got so much time  
I'm pretty sure it would kill me  
If you didn't know the pieces of me are pieces of you_

* * *

Blaine held the door open as Burt carefully helped Kurt through it, his strong arm wrapped protectively around his son. Blaine put Kurt's bag down on the floor and closed the door behind them, before following them into the living room, where Burt lowered Kurt gently onto the couch. Kurt tried to hide his wince of pain and failed spectacularly.

“Let me go get your meds,” Blaine said immediately, heading back to the bag.

“Relax,” Kurt called back to him. “I don't need them yet. I'm fine.”

It had been such a joy when the doctor said Kurt didn't need to stay at the hospital anymore, after only three days. He would need to take it easy for a few weeks, but there was no reason for him to lie in a hospital bed as he recovered.

Burt sat down next to his son, patted his knee. “Happy to be home?”

Kurt looked around the apartment and sighed in contentment. “Yes. I couldn't stand being there another minute.”

“And let's hope you never have to again,” Burt replied, his eyes fixed meaningfully on Kurt, who looked down at his lap. “No more playing hero, Kurt.”

“Dad, come on,” Kurt practically hissed, glancing awkwardly at Blaine. “Stop it.”

Burt was determined to stay for a few days to make sure Kurt was okay. He was allowed to move on his own, but needed help with a few things that required too much effort. It was obvious only a couple days in that Kurt was a bit annoyed by all the attention, and a bit scared that this would mean he would lose his part in the musical, but Blaine assured him the company's director had seemed perfectly understanding on the phone and had wished him nothing but a speedy recovery.

Every night, Blaine slept on the couch, having convinced Burt to take his bed, and sometimes he stared at the ceiling late into the night, feeling comforted by the thought that Kurt was safe and asleep just down the hallway.

It was a different dynamic, with Burt around. Blaine woke up to him in the kitchen instead of Kurt, and came home from class to find them together on the couch. Blaine missed the moments when they got to be alone, and by the frustration growing more and more evident in Kurt's eyes with every passing day, he missed their old life, too.

Though Kurt probably missed being able to live his life without a babysitter, more than he missed time with Blaine.

It was rare, to find a moment to be with Kurt, just the two of them, and Blaine found himself craving them, filing away every smile Kurt sent him from across the table, every word he said during the day, every brush of his hand when he reached for the remote control. One afternoon, while Blaine was lying on his bed reading, Kurt slipped into his room and lied down next to him, his head on his shoulder, his arm a warm weight across his stomach, taking him by surprise, sending goosebumps throughout Blaine's entire body, his heart beating like a drum.

“I love my dad,” Kurt murmured quietly. “Don't get me wrong. But I miss having time for myself. I miss having time to be with just you.”

“Where is he?” Blaine asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

“In the shower,” Kurt replied with a sigh.

And Blaine held him, reveling in the way Kurt's body fit to his, in the fact that they could be like this, just breathing together. He thought of all the things they had taken for granted – going to Bushwick for their weekly dinners, or just sitting together on the couch to watch a movie, walking down the street to their favorite burger joint, or even just working together at the kitchen counter while they made dinner. Such simple moments that they had taken for granted and now they missed.

Blaine knew those days would come back. He knew it was a matter of time before Burt went back to Ohio, before Kurt's ribs healed completely and they could forget this had ever even happened.

“Would you read to me?” Kurt asked, his breath against the curve of Blaine's neck.

Blaine picked his book back up and began to read, but none of the words made sense to him, because he couldn't focus on the story, not with Kurt so close to him, alive and warm, and as real as the feelings Blaine had for him.

He had been so scared – of rejection, of commitment, of love never being enough, of love not standing the test of time, of love being too easily broken when it should be stronger than anything. But now, the only thing that truly terrified him was never getting the chance to be open, to tell Kurt the truth, to show him how he felt. A week ago, he had almost lost him. Everything could have gone so horribly wrong, but Kurt was here, still here, pressed against his side and breathing and Blaine was so grateful he wanted to cry.

He wanted to tell him. Needed to tell him.

The sound of the bathroom door opening startled him back to reality.

Not now, not with Burt here, not while Kurt was healing and already dealing with so much.

But he would, he promised himself. He would tell him, and he would find a way to put his feelings into words that made sense.

He just needed to find the right way.

Blaine just wished it hadn't taken almost losing Kurt to figure out he had found him.

* * *

_In case you don't live forever, let me tell you now  
I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around  
In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth  
I'm everything that I am because of you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT WASN'T SO BAD, HUH?  
> I promised this story wouldn't be so angsty. I hope you guys are happy with the chapter.  
> Next chapter will be up NEXT SATURDAY. Yup, I'm sorry but I'm skipping Wednesday's update because I won't be home all week. So I hope you'll have a wonderful week!   
> See you on Saturday.  
> Love,  
> L.-


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!  
> Thank you so much for your patience and your comments. I hope you had a nice week :)  
> Thank you to Christine, as usual, for her help on this and all the chapters.  
> Lyrics for chapter 15 come from the song Run Away.  
> Enjoy!

_I may not be wise  
And I won't save the day  
But look in my eyes  
And know I'll always stay  
And I won't run away  
I won't run away_

* * *

Burt put the overnight bag – the one he had thrown together in a hurry before leaving Ohio two weeks ago, with his heart pounding in fear after getting Rachel's phone call – on the passenger seat of his truck, and turned back to the two boys standing together in front of their building.

They weren't touching, not really, but there was something there, a comfort, a sense of intimacy, something in the way Kurt seemed to lean into Blaine, something in the way Blaine kept his eyes on Kurt as if to make sure he was okay. Burt wondered if the next time he saw them, they would be more than friends.

He'd wondered the same thing over Christmas break, but so far, nothing.

It was a matter of time, though. He could almost see how they ached for each other. But as usual, love could make people blind. They would still need some time to figure it out, it seemed.

Still, Blaine looked at Kurt as if he had hung the moon and the stars, and just with that, it was enough for Burt to realize this kid was perfect for his son. Because his son had always deserved soemone who looked at him like that, someone who would love him and appreciate him, who would make him smile, who would make him feel safe and comfortable, who would make him step out of his comfort zone, too...

But maybe not step in front of speeding cabs again, hopefully. Burt wasn't sure his heart could take another phone call like that.

“Well, I'm all set,” he announced, as he stopped on the sidewalk next to the truck.

“Thank you so much for coming, dad,” Kurt said, as if Burt would have just stayed in Ohio when he was in the hospital. “And for staying with me.”

Burt pulled him into his arms and squeezed tightly, mindful of his still healing ribs. “Just don't scare me like that again, Kurt. I love you. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose anyone else again, okay?”

Without being able to help it, Burt thought back to the last time he had seen Finn, a moment that came to his mind so, so often. And yet, he couldn't remember if he had given him a hug. Had he only patted his back? He hoped he had hugged him.

“I love you too, dad,” Kurt whispered into his ear. “Can you give Carole a big hug from me when you get home?”

“Of course I will,” Burt said, as he cleared his throat and pulled away. He turned to Blaine, extended his hand towards him. “Blaine.”

“Mr. Hummel, drive safely,” he murmured, polite as ever.

This kid really needed a hug, too.

“You'll take care of my boy, right?” Burt asked, and Blaine immediately nodded, eager, earnest. “Good.”

Burt got in the truck and took a deep breath before venturing into New York traffic, and god, he would never understand how his son loved this city so much. It moved so quickly, it was so hectic, that Burt barely had time to think sometimes.

He looked back at their building before turning the corner and found the two boys still standing there, Blaine's arm around Kurt's shoulders, pressing him tightly to his side, Blaine's free hand trapped firmly between Kurt's, and that's all it took for him to understand.

This city was Kurt's home, and the boy standing next to him was one of the reasons why.

* * *

The next morning, Blaine woke up in his own bed and allowed himself a moment of bliss at being surrounded by his own sheets, at not rolling off the couch in his sleep because it was too narrow, at not having a crick in his neck. Life was back at normal, or as normal as it could be while Kurt was still healing, and it gave him hope – hope for all that was to come.

He got up and made a quick stop at the bathroom before he headed towards the kitchen, the familiar scent of coffee and food being cooked luring him in. He stood at the breakfast bar and smiled at the sight of Kurt, the pajama pants low on his hips, the soft cotton shirt stretching against his back, as he made pancakes, not really noticing Blaine at first. But when he did, oh. That smile, the soft way it appeared on his lips, so gradual yet so full, like he couldn't hold it back.

“Good morning!” He exclaimed, his voice still a little rough from sleep but as melodic as ever.

“Morning, Kurt,” Blaine smiled. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better,” Kurt replied, as he flipped a pancake expertly. “I didn't even need to take my meds last night.”

“Still, you need to take it easy, alright?” Blaine said, as he came around and into the kitchen, reaching into the cupboard for their mugs. “I know you want to be able to go back to rehearsals and everything, but you can't risk hurting yourself.”

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. “Yes, dear.” Blaine ignored the way his stomach swooped at the endearment. “Give me a plate, your pancakes are ready.”

They sat at the breakfast bar and ate like they had done so many mornings, and if they moved a little bit closer or they allowed their hands to brush as they reached for their mugs, they pretended not to notice and simply smiled into their coffee.

* * *

Monday potluck dinners were momentarily moved to Mercedes and Sam's townhouse, so Kurt wouldn't have to take the subway all the way to Bushwick and back. Kurt wanted to protest but part of him was flattered and touched by how much his friends cared about him and how willing they were to reaccomodate their traditions to better suit him.

The night of the first get together after the accident, Blaine insisted on taking a cab, not wanting Kurt to tire himself by walking there, or to risk getting on the subway and it being too crowded.

Kurt snorted. “You say that as if it wasn't a cab that got us in this mess in the first place,” he joked, and then watched as Blaine's face went really, really pale. “Oh. _Oh_ , I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...”

Blaine swallowed with difficulty, as if there was something lodged in his throat, while a cab stopped on the curb. He opened the back seat door to help Kurt inside. “It's okay,” he mumbled, but something in his eyes told Kurt it wasn't.

It wasn't a long drive over to their friends' place, but there was a traffic jam and the driver had to find an alternative route. Kurt took advantage of the extra minutes alone with Blaine, and slid across the seat, closer to his side, feeling the tension irradiating from him, and dropped his head on Blaine's shoulder, almost nuzzling into the curve of his neck.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured quietly, his hand finding Blaine's coat, grabbing onto the fabric.

Blaine turned his head and pressed his lips to his temple, sending shivers down Kurt's spine. “That night was... Kurt, I don't think I've ever been so scared before. Sometimes I close my eyes and I can still see you...”

“I'm _fine_ ,” Kurt reassured him, fingers tightening their hold on Blaine's coat. He wanted to pull him closer but it wasn't possible. They were already as close as they could be. “I'm fine and so are you, and nothing is your fault, if that's what's bothering you.” He lifted his head and noticed Blaine's eyes had fallen closed. “Look at me, Blaine. _Look at me_ ,” he insisted, and when Blaine finally obeyed, his eyes were so mesmerizing, whiskey gold in the dusk, that Kurt almost lost his train of thought. His breath hitched slightly. “I'm here. We're fine.”

“ _Kurt_...”

Kurt stopped and truly thought about it – would it be so bad if he moved in and pressed his lips to Blaine's, if only for just a second, just to feel how soft and wonderful they were against him again?

The cab stopped abruptly, almost making their heads bump into each other, and Kurt hissed as it jostled his ribs. Blaine's hand was instantly on his shoulder, looking at him to make sure he was okay, so Kurt nodded stiffly. They looked out the window to see they had arrived. With a soft smile, Kurt pulled away, his hand glued to his side, and accepted Blaine's help to get out of the car.

Blaine kept his hand on Kurt's back for support as they moved towards the front door, and Kurt said nothing despite not really needing the aid, leaning a bit into the touch, grateful for the excuse to stay close to him.

Mercedes opened the door and immediately wrapped her arms around Kurt gently, telling him how happy she was to see him. “You look good, Kurt.”

They were the first there, so they joined Sam and Mercedes on the couch. Kurt didn't want to say anything, but he felt a little winded, so he was glad he didn't have to do much more for the moment. Blaine clearly noticed, because he sat next to him, placed a hand on his arm and looked at him, again asking without the need for words.

“I'm fine, just a bit tired,” Kurt reassured him in a soft voice.

Blaine didn't move away, despite there being enough room on the couch for him to sit more comfortably. Kurt's stomach was in knots with the proximity, and a smile was trying to pull at his lips, but he managed to hide just how pleased he was.

Or so he thought.

Blaine stayed by his side most of the night, all throughout dinner, and Kurt could see everyone's eyes on them. He didn't know if Blaine didn't care or if he was really that oblivious. He only stood up and left when Sam asked him to help him bring dessert and coffee for everyone, and he still brushed his hand over Kurt's shoulder as he stood up and followed him to the kitchen.

Immediately, Mercedes turned to him, Santana, Brittany and Rachel following her, leaning over the table towards him, and said: “Holy _shit_ , Kurt. Tell us everything.”

“Tell you what?” Kurt asked innocently, as he reached for his glass of water.

“Don't play dumb, there's so much sexual tension in the air, it's killing me,” Santana said, with her usual smirk. “I thought he would at least wait until your ribs healed to fuck your brains out...”

“ _Nothing happened_ ,” Kurt interrupted, hating that, after all these years, he still blushed like a school boy. “We're just... there's nothing going on.”

“I think he really likes you, Kurt,” Brittany said, and the others nodded in agreement. “He looks at you like Santana looks at me when no one else is around, but he doesn't mind doing it when there's people, too.”

“I swear nothing's happened,” Kurt said, making sure he kept his voice down. “I mean... I think he just feels guilty after the accident. That's all.”

“Kurt, you jumped in front of a cab for this guy,” Rachel murmured, with a little smile. “We already knew you have feelings for him, but that might have opened his eyes...”

“I don't think he wants me like that,” Kurt said, doing his best to not sound as dejected as he felt. “We've had a few moments, but maybe he's really feeling guilty...”

“You're so blind,” Mercedes mumbled, and then they all had to pretend to be talking about something else, because the door that led to the kitchen swayed open and Blaine came back, laughing wholeheartedly at something Sam had just said, carrying a tray with coffee mugs as Sam followed him with the tiramisu Santana had made earlier. However, Mercedes leaned back for a moment, and whispered in his ear: “Don't give up on him yet. You shouldn't give up on someone who looks at you like that.”

Kurt couldn't reply, in part because Blaine dropped back on the chair next to his, smiling widely at him and passing him a mug, and in part because he didn't really know what to say.

* * *

By the time Kurt reached the halfway mark in his recovery, he realized he would go insane if he didn't do something, anything, whatever he could to feel useful, to feel like he was taking proper steps to catching up with everything he had missed at work. So he called the theatre company, and after a long conversation in which they assured him that they very much wanted him to return when the doctor gave him the all-clear, they agreed to let him attend rehearsals under the sole condition that he would not try to join in the choreography – he would only observe and memorize, and get ready in every way he could for the work he would have to do when he came back.

Kurt was so happy they still wanted him to be part of the production that he would have agreed to being a human prop if they asked him to.

They agreed on a day and time, and then Kurt dropped the phone on the couch and had to stop himself from bouncing around the apartment in celebration.

He couldn't wait for Blaine to get home so he could tell him the news.

* * *

The weather was getting warmer, and they were eager to spend time outside, so on Sunday they grabbed their jackes, forgo their scarves and went out, deciding it was the perfect day for a nice stroll through the park.

Most of New York seemed to have had the same idea. Couples walked hand in hand, parents pushed strollers or chased toddlers around, old people walked their dogs, friends laughed together as they sat for an impromptu picnic now that the snow had melted.

Kurt hadn’t needed his pain meds in a few days, and unless he did a sudden movement, his ribs barely bothered him anymore. He felt good, in a great mood, and though he was sad to see scarf season go, a spring wardrobe was sure to bring a lot of possibilities. Probably a few bold floral patterns, brighter colors, a nice neckerchief…

“Are you excited about going back to work tomorrow?” Blaine asked as they moved out of the way of a few children who ran by them, laughing.

“God, _yes_ ,” Kurt said, joy immediately creeping into his voice. “I know I can’t do anything for a while, but at least I can be there and memorize the choreography and it’ll be less catch up work when I can finally dance again. And I think they might use the time to do fittings for my costume, too, so all in all, very exciting.”

Blaine chuckled and pressed his hand to the small of his back – something he had been doing a lot lately, and Kurt wasn’t about to complain about it – to guide him towards an ice-cream cart. “I think we should celebrate, then.”

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly but allowed Blaine to lead him there, and soon they were walking back down the road, birds chirping as they moved from tree to tree, ice-cream cones in their hands.

They sat on a wooden bench to eat as they talked. And it fascinated Kurt, really, how they never seemed to run out of things to say. Living together and being together almost all day every day, Kurt thought they should have run out of new topics to talk about. He remembered living with Rachel and Santana, how every conversation was filled with their drama, how sometimes he just wanted them to be quiet…

But with Blaine, even talking about the weather became the most interesting interaction he had ever had with another human being.

And sometimes, no matter how interesting the conversation, Kurt found that he couldn’t hear a single word Blaine was saying, because he got lost in his eyes.

He wanted to kick himself, really. That was such a sappy thing to think about, and Kurt Hummel was  _not_ sappy. It was unfair, how Blaine managed to lower each and every one of his defenses, how he made his stomach swoop, how his heart kept skipping beats whenever he did or said something particularly adorable.

It was hard, falling in love with your best friend and roommate, Kurt found out. There was an invisible line that he was not supposed to cross, but felt tempted to every time.

For example, as they sat, laughing as Blaine told him about his brother’s latest antics, Kurt wanted to reach out and wipe the bit of chocolate ice-cream from the corner of Blaine’s lips, wanted to lean in and kiss the sweetness away, wanted to thread his fingers through Blaine’s hair and push him closer, until they were so breathless they needed to go home so they could get closer in ways they couldn’t in public…

But Kurt was just now healing his broken ribs, he didn’t want to have to nurse a broken heart on top of that.

He didn’t think he could deal with Blaine not wanting him again. He had felt so defeated when he got back together with Eli after their kiss, and though he knew Eli wasn’t coming back now that Blaine was done with him, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. There could always be someone else, someone who charmed Blaine and made him forget all about his pining roommate.

Kurt enjoyed their closeness, the way Blaine never hesitated to reach out for him, the way they kept brushing against each other, and it felt like a million possibilities exploding against his skin. But Blaine could also mean nothing by it. Maybe he still felt guilty and responsible after the accident – hadn’t he admitted he kept thinking about it? Yes, Kurt told himself, that was all it was, probably. And he wasn’t exactly eager to make his move only to have Blaine shut him down, even if he did so gently.

There were two options left, he realized. He could either wait for Blaine to make his move, if he was as interested in Kurt as Kurt was in him, or he would need to start taking steps into getting over him.

Kurt wished falling out of love could be as easy as falling in had been.

* * *

Monday morning kicked off with an alarm that failed to go off.

Kurt opened his eyes, excitement already creeping into him as he tried to shake off sleep, and reached for his phone, only to realize he was supposed to be getting out the door in less than thirty minutes.

He jumped off the bed and immediately regretted it as his ribs complained loudly about the sudden movement. He allowed himself a few seconds to breathe through the pain, and then he left his room to get into the shower. As he shampooed his hair, not taking the time he usually did to massage the product into the roots and through his scalp, he decided he wasn't going to allow anything to ruin this day. He was finally going back to the theatre, even if he was going to be nothing but a piece of scenery as all his castmates bounced and danced all over the stage.

But he was going back, and that was all that mattered.

Kurt was grateful that he had taken time to prepare his outfit the previous day because he didn't have time to waste going through his options in his closet. Once he was dressed, he went into the kitchen, where he found Blaine, barely awake, fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Hey,” Blaine said, and then broke into a yawn. “Coffee?”

Kurt groaned in frustration. “Could you pour some into a travel mug for me? My alarm never went off and I should be out the door in like five minutes or I'll be late, and oh, what if they don't want me there anymore, what if I'm so late that they don't want to put up with me, what if...”

Blaine was suddenly in front of him, his hands settling comfortingly on Kurt's shoulders, his hazel eyes now focused on him, all traces of sleep gone. “Hey, hey, breathe, come on. It'll be alright. If they decided to wait until you recovered instead of casting someone else, it's because they like your work, they like you, and they can see how talented you are. Now go and finish getting ready and I'm going to make you the best cup of coffee you've ever had.”

Kurt exhaled slowly and found a smile for him. “Okay. Okay. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, now go,” Blaine replied, and returned to the coffee machine as Kurt marched back down the hallway towards his room.

He fixed his hair as well as he could and grabbed a coat from the closet before reaching for his bag, and of course, he knocked it to the ground, all its contents spilling all over his bedroom floor like he had time to pick all of them up, _of course_.

He began to hastily shove everything back into it when his eyes fell onto a wrinkled napkin with something scribbled on it in black marker. He smoothed it out to take a look at it. On it, was the name Luke, with a phone number underneath, and he had vague memories of accepting it from that stranger at the bar where Blaine played the night of the accident. He hadn't thought back to it since – he had been a bit preoccupied, after all – and didn't really feel like he could give it a thought now either, so he simply let it fall onto his nightstand, turned on his heels and left the room.

The phone number and what it meant – or what it could mean, if he let himself – were out of his mind the moment he stepped back into the kitchen and accepted the travel mug from Blaine, who sent him away with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek for good luck.

Kurt's skin tingled all day with the memory of Blaine's lips, fleeting as the touch had been.

* * *

Blaine finished his own solitary breakfast while doing some reading for a class he had that afternoon. He was in no hurry to start his day since the student he usually had over on Monday mornings had called the night before to let him know he was sick and wouldn't be able to make it this week.

He was glad to have a lazy morning, to have nowhere to run to. He took a long, long shower, and if he jerked off while he was under the hot spray of water, allowing himself to be a little louder than usual, well, that was just one of the many benefits of having a lazy morning and an apartment to yourself. He did his best to keep his fantasies faceless and nameless, but as he came with a little grunt, splattering the tiles with white streaks, he couldn't help seeing a flash of blue eyes.

Feeling loose and pliant, he got dressed and tidied up his room. There was a pile of unfinished songs lying on the piano that he needed to get to, and today seemed as good a day as any.

As he moved down the hallway, he glanced into Kurt's room and saw that it was uncharacteristically messy. The blankets were on the floor and the closet doors were open. Blaine chuckled to himself – Kurt had to be in a real hurry to leave his room in this state. He went inside and closed the doors, folded the pajamas he had left thrown over his desk chair and then moved towards the bed to make it, when something on the nightstand caught his eyes.

He would recognize that stupid napkin anywhere.

Why was it there? Had Kurt texted this guy? Had he found the number at last, after all these weeks, and decided to call him? What if they had stayed up talking the entire night and that's why Kurt had slept past his alarm? What if they had agreed to go on a date? What if, what if, what if...

Blaine had thought... oh. He let himself fall onto the bed, where the scent of Kurt was intoxicating, and berated himself for being so stupid. He had tried getting closer and closer to Kurt, but maybe he hadn't been obvious enough. Maybe he hadn't made himself abundantly clear. Maybe Kurt hadn't seen any of the signs.

Maybe Kurt didn't care.

What was he supposed to do? If this napkin was here, it had to mean Kurt was ready to move on with someone else. Maybe he wasn't interested in Blaine, not like that. Blaine had been sure the spark between them was real, had assumed so from the way Kurt looked at him, the way he always seemed to lean closer to him, the way he caught him staring at his lips every now and then, like he was planning to kiss him but didn't dare to.

Blaine had been too slow. He had ignored the conversation they were supposed to have after their drunken kiss, had played all his cards wrong, and now he was going to lose the game. Except this was so much more than any game – this was so much more than Blaine had ever thought he would want. Kurt was everything, and he had let him go...

Blaine left the room, left the napkin where he had found it, and burst into the living room, feeling like a caged animal who wanted to break free from his restraints but didn't know how. He had spent too long doubting, too long being afraid, and now he had missed his chance.

But what if there was still time? What if Kurt hadn't called this guy yet? What if there was still hope?

He dropped down onto the piano bench. He stared at all those pieces of songs, lyrics that had been haunting him for months and months, unfinished. He let his eyes scan through them in distraction, but something made him stop. He reached for the one on top, read it word by word, even read the words that weren't there yet, that were lodged somewhere inside of him and wouldn't come out. And he realized why he had started pouring each of these lyrics onto pages, only to let them sit there incomplete.

He had been writing about Kurt since the day he moved into this apartment, and he hadn't even realized it.

His soul had known something that his head and his heart hadn't been ready to catch up with until this very moment: that he was in love with Kurt, that he belonged with him.

He shuffled through the pages, rereading them with this new idea in mind, and he could almost see every single piece fall into place. He could hear the melodies and fill in the blanks, because he finally stopped lying to himself, he finally let go of that unreasonable fear that told him everything was going to go wrong, that love wasn't worth it, that he would never find someone he was willing to put everything on the line for.

And maybe he _had_ wasted too much time, but he was done being afraid. He was done pushing love away because he was afraid it would end before it even began. He was done not letting himself be happy because he was terrified it would lead him to walk in his parents' footsteps. He was not his father. He was a better man, and it was time to prove it.

It was time to make his move, because this game? This game wasn't over.

Not until Kurt said so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine is READY.  
> And we only have two chapters left. One more week and we'll be done with this one! Sometimes I can't quite believe it.  
> I'll see you again on Wednesday.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> L.-


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY WEDNESDAY!  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your wonderfully kind comments on the last chapter. I appreciate the love and the support.  
> Thank you to my amazing friend Christine for her help, which is so valuable to me :)  
> Enjoy!

The first day back at rehearsal had been nothing short of amazing, and Kurt would have danced in celebration if it wasn't because he was strictly forbidden from doing so.

His heart felt warm at the honest joy his cast mates had expressed when they saw him again, and when they insisted they had to take him out for coffee to celebrate once rehearsal was over, Kurt couldn't reject the invitation.

That was the reason he arrived at Mercedes and Sam's place a little later than usual for their weekly dinner. He exited the cab – because Blaine would have killed him if he took the subway – and headed to the front door, which Mercedes opened for him only a handful of seconds later, immediately pulling him into a hug.

“I'm glad you made it, Kurt,” she said, as she moved aside so he could come in. “I want to hear all about your first day back!”

“And you will, I'm so excited, I'll probably talk everyone's ear off,” Kurt laughed as he looked around. “Is everyone else here, yet?”

“Yes. Rachel, Brit and Sam are in the living room. Santana is finishing up desert with Blaine in the kitchen,” Mercedes informed him as she took his coat. She must have seen him glance towards the kitchen because she rolled her eyes. “Go let him know you got here. He's been checking his phone every five seconds. I don't know if I want to hug him or punch him in the face.”

“Mercedes, I never thought you'd be such a violent person,” Kurt quipped with an arched eyebrow.

She arched an eyebrow back at him, all sass. “Do you forget how I busted your car's window back in high school?”

Kurt chuckled as he walked towards the kitchen.

He pushed the door open and saw Santana first, leaning into the fridge to carefully slid a tray with something into one of the shelves there. She was talking as she did so, and Kurt caught the end of it: “... so don't touch anything, hobbit, because if you ruin Brit's favorite dessert we'll be having your balls with our coffee this evening.”

“Already told you a million times, Santana,” Blaine said, as he worked on something at the counter, his back to Kurt. “I don't even need to open the fridge. I just need to put this in the oven and I'll head to the living room.”

“Well, look who finally made it,” Santana murmured as she straightened up and bumped the fridge's door with her butt to shove it closed, her eyes twinkling as they settled on Kurt.

Blaine looked over his shoulder, his face blossoming with a smile as he saw Kurt standing there. “Hey! You're here!” He wiped his hands on a kitchen cloth and turned to lean against the counter.

Kurt walked towards him as Santana inconspicuously slipped through the door and left them alone. When he was close enough, Blaine reached for his hand and tugged him closer until he could wrap his arms around him, and Kurt's breath hitched, as it always did when Blaine did something he didn't expect, when he was _so_ close, and hooked his chin on Blaine's shoulder.

“I want to hear all about your first day back,” Blaine murmured quietly, his voice so soft that it felt like a caress.

“Well, I'm not telling it a thousand times, so you'll have to wait until we're having dinner,” Kurt teased, and he swore he could feel Blaine smiling against his neck. He pulled away, because it was suddenly _so much_. “So, uh. Do you need any help here?”

“Nope,” Blaine said, and turned back to the counter, where he had been finishing setting up a lasagna in a large baking dish. “Just need to put this in the oven.”

He did just that and they joined their friends out in the living room. There wasn't much room to sit, so Kurt took the last spot on the couch and Blaine leaned next to him on the armrest. Kurt almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Blaine's fingers press against the back of his shoulder, and once again he was close, so close...

And he was looking at Kurt, even though he glanced away when he got caught.

Kurt felt like his stomach was all twisted into knots. It felt like things had shifted, somehow, even if Blaine had always been quick to offer touch, to offer hugs. There was something here that hadn't been there this morning when he left the apartment.

Once again, Kurt tried to shut down every single hope that attempted to rise in him.

Eventually they moved to the dinner table, and the conversation kept flowing as easily as it always did, passing dishes around as they laughed and teased each other the way good friends often did. They all asked Kurt how he was doing and he shared about his first day back in rehearsal and how nice his cast mates had been, before they moved onto someone else's day, and Sam began to tell them about a new campaign he had booked that he was very excited about, Mercedes rubbing his arm with pride.

Blaine was sitting next to Kurt, and Kurt was so aware of the way they brushed against each other every time they moved, of the warmth irradiating from Blaine's body as he leaned a bit closer. But he was mostly aware of the way Blaine kept glancing in his direction, as if he was trying to be subtle about it and failing spectacularly. Eventually, taking advantage of everyone else being distracted discussing a TV show Kurt didn't watch, he turned to Blaine and touched the back of his hand to get his attention.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

Blaine blinked at him in confusion. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“I don't know. You're a little fidgety and...” Kurt shrugged. Maybe he was reading too much into things. “It kind of looks like there's something you want to tell me.”

Now Blaine looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights, but he recovered quickly enough and found a smile for him instead. He nudged their shoulders together. “Everything's fine, silly. I'm just happy to be here.”

Kurt wasn't sure he believed him, but he let it be.

After dinner, Santana marched back into the kitchen to get the dessert and came back with the tray in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

“I thought we were having coffee?” Rachel asked. “What's with the champagne?”

Santana placed everything on the table but didn't sit back. “Coffee is not good enough...”

“How dare you,” Kurt said under his breath, and Blaine chuckled.

“Not for a celebration,” Santana said sharply, and then offered her hand to Brittany, who accepted it without question and stood up next to her. “I asked Brittany to marry me, and she said yes.” She turned their intertwined hands so they all could see the beautiful ring glistening on her finger.

The whole table suddenly erupted into cheers and excited screams, Kurt jumping to his feet so quickly he almost gasped in pain as it upset his still healing ribs. Then they were all hugging at the same time, a messy pile of arms and bodies, and Santana was laughing and Rachel was squealing, and Brittany was grinning so wide her happiness seemed to spread through them like a wave.

They had dessert and champagne as Santana told them all about her amazing proposal, and then Brittany started talking about her dream wedding, and it was so nice to see their friends so happy and in love, so ready for such a big commitment, one that had been in the making since they were seventeen years old. Kurt looked at them sometimes and saw what true love was about, and part of him ached, because he wanted that for himself. But he was happy that his friends were living proof that it existed, that it was out there, and all you had to do was wait until it found you.

Eventually they moved back to the living room, and music was playing softly in the background, when Rachel stood up, climbed onto the coffee table (“Berry, if you break my furniture, I swear to God...” “Well, Mercedes, I can't believe you haven't set up a stage here for impromptu performances yet!”), and announced she was singing a song for the new fiancés.

“Consider this my audition to sing at your wedding,” she said, beaming at them. Santana rolled her eyes, but Kurt thought he saw her wipe a tear away when no one else was looking.

She fiddled with her phone for a moment as she looked for the right instrumental track, and Kurt noticed how Santana and Brittany exchanged a look when the first chords to Whitney Houston's Run to You began to fill the silence. He remembered how they had all sung her songs back in high school, and he especially remembered Santana and Brittany singing with each other, to each other... and here they were, years later, just as in love as they had been right then.

Rachel sounded beautifully, as she always did, and Kurt watched her with a smile on his face, one that grew brighter when Brittany eventually stood up and tugged on Santana's hand, who laughed but agreed to dance with her future wife anyway. They all watched them twirl each other around the living room, until Sam stood up, too, and offered his hand to Mercedes, who accepted it gladly.

Kurt's heart clenched a little. He was happy that his friends were happy, he just wished he could enjoy it the same way they did...

And then Blaine was standing in front of him, a soft smile on his face, his hand a silent offering, and Kurt's heart was no longer clenched but expanding, expanding, expanding until it was all he could feel. He slid his hand into Blaine's and stood up.

Blaine wrapped his arms around him, pulling him so close they were practically glued together, their cheeks pressed to each other, and they began to sway so slowly they were barely moving.

“I thought I wasn't supposed to dance,” Kurt whispered, so low no one else could hear.

Blaine turned his face slightly, just enough to murmur into his ear. “We can make an exception this one time,” and then he pressed a sweet, tiny, fleeting kiss to the skin under his ear, and there were shivers running down Kurt's spine and his heart was beating so wildly he couldn't believe no one else could hear it.

He closed his eyes, and danced with Blaine, and wished he could let the hopes resurface.

* * *

As Rachel kept singing, Blaine wished the song could last forever.

He couldn't believe he hadn't admitted he was in love with this boy weeks – _months_ – ago. He couldn't believe he had kept those feelings buried deep inside of him, afraid of them, when in reality the most terrifying part was losing his chance.

He parted his lips, and wanted to tell him now, but he held back. He had waited this long. He wanted it to be perfect, and so he would stick to his plan.

He kept holding Kurt until the song was over, and pretended he wasn't disappointed when he had to let go.

* * *

On Thursday, Kurt opened his eyes to a cloudy sky. He turned around in his bed, savoring the last few minutes of laziness before he absolutely had to start his day, and wished for the sun.

Eventually, he got out of bed and began to go through his daily routine: shower, getting dressed, fixing his hair. When he was ready to face the world, he walked down the hallway and was immediately greeted by the scent of coffee coming from the kitchen.

Blaine was standing at the stove, making scrambled eggs, and smiled at him brightly when he saw him. “Good morning!”

Kurt smiled back. It was unusual for Blaine to be the first one up, and it was especially unusual for him to look so awake first thing in the morning. But it had been happening a little more lately, particularly after the accident, and it sent warmth all through Kurt to walk into the kitchen in the morning and find him there, making breakfast for the both of them.

“Good morning,” he replied, and he was going to head to the coffee machine, but Blaine pointed the spatula at him.

“Oh, no, no, sir, please sit down!” He exclaimed, and shooed him away. “I'll get your coffee in a minute, just let me finish here first before I burn everything.”

Kurt chuckled. “Blaine, I can get my own coffee...”

Blaine looked at him over his shoulder and pouted slightly. It was unfair how adorable it looked. “Please? I want to.”

Kurt's stomach swooped, and it was too early in the morning to feel like this. His mouth was suddenly dry, so he simply nodded and sat at the breakfast bar to watch Blaine as he finished making breakfast.

After a few minutes, Blaine put a cup of coffee and a plate with scrambled eggs and toast in front of Kurt, and then joined him at the bar with his own, once again sitting so close to him that it was impossible not to brush his arm every time he reached for his coffee.

“You're unusually chipper this morning,” Kurt commented, glancing at him.

Blaine shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I figured I have a lot of reasons to be happy lately.”

The way he said it, the tone of his voice, like there was something Kurt didn't know...

Oh god, he hoped he hadn't gotten back together with Eli. Kurt didn't think he could take it if that smug bastard showed up around here again.

Blaine cleared his throat and turned slightly in his seat, enough to face him. “So... I was wondering if... uhm, are you coming to see me play tonight?”

He seemed so nervous that Kurt frowned. What was there to be nervous about?

“Of course I'm coming,” he said, reaching for his fork. “I go every week. Why would I miss it today?”

Blaine's face lit up, and Kurt didn't understand why it made him so happy. “Awesome. Great. I was just checking.”

They finished eating, and Kurt was so distracted trying to figure Blaine out that he was almost running late.

“Oh shit,” he said, as he looked at the time, and grabbed his plate with the intention to bring it to the sink.

Blaine once again stopped him, this time with a hand on his arm. “Don't worry about it. I have time, just go.” And then he leaned in and kissed his cheek, so quickly that Kurt barely had time to feel the brush of his lips before they were gone. “I'll see you tonight, then.”

For a moment, Kurt forgot that he was going to be late for work, and he stayed there, glued to the stool, watching Blaine as he started washing up at the sink like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, and willing his heart to go back to normal.

 _God_ , he really hoped this sudden change of mood wasn't because of Eli.

* * *

The bar was quite crowded by the time Kurt made it that night. He looked around trying to find his friends, but he couldn't see them, so he assumed they were running late, and began to look for a vacant table.

The only available one was a small one near the stage. It wouldn't be enough for all of them, but it was better than just standing in a corner and waiting for a bigger one to empty, so he took it and guessed they could all move later if it was necessary.

He dropped his bag next to his chair and began to look around again, this time for Blaine, but he couldn't see him either. All the instruments were already set up on the stage for his set, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Kurt sighed and pulled out his phone to text Mercedes and Rachel and asked if they were on their way yet.

No one had replied by the time Blaine walked on stage, though.

Kurt cursed. Blaine looked amazing, though it wasn't a surprise because he always did, and it was unfair. He was wearing a fitted black polo with vertical white stripes on the side and maroon pants that hugged his thighs deliciously. It was still too cold for short sleeves, but Kurt knew Blaine always got hot under the lights when he was on stage, so he guessed there was a discarded cardigan somewhere.

He looked dreamy and Kurt wished he could look away, but he really, really couldn't.

Blaine sat at the piano and smiled at the audience, before launching into his first song, a cover of an old Pink song, followed by a Mariah Carey song, and then some Britney Spears. Kurt shook his head fondly at him – he loved how much fun Blaine had on stage.

Kurt was starting to think his friends weren't showing up, and he wished they had at least texted him back. The waitress stopped by and he ordered another Shirley Temple, virgin, as Blaine began to sing a Beatles song.

As the applause died down afterwards, Blaine stood very still, his face tilted towards the piano, eyes looking down, and Kurt frowned, wondering if he was alright. There was a rather strange look on his face. Then he exhaled, and turned to look at the audience once more.

“So I'm going to do something I've never done before,” he began to say, with a little, nervous smile. “Every time I play here, I try to keep things light and fun, because that's the kind of stuff people want to listen to while having a drink and hanging out with their friends. And so I play a lot of covers of pop songs and get teased by all my friends for how cheesy I can be.” Now he chuckled, and a few people laughed with him, because how could they not? Blaine was absolutely magnetic. “But tonight... tonight I want to sing a song I wrote recently,” he paused again and the air seemed suddenly charged. Kurt's back straightened as Blaine licked his lips and looked down at his own hands. “And like every song I've written in the past few weeks, even in the past few months... they have all been for one person. So Kurt,” and now he lifted his head, eyes finding Kurt, and Kurt startled, shocked to be addressed, even more shocked by the unexpected vulnerability in Blaine's eyes, visible even from where he was sitting on his small table all by himself. “This one is for you. I hope you'll like it.” 

It was as if all the air and all the noise had been sucked out of the bar, and Kurt was suddenly sitting in a vacuum, where he was left gasping for breath, and all he could see was Blaine on that stage, and all he could hear was the music he made on that piano, a melody he had never heard before.

Blaine’s eyes were closed, brow slightly furrowed in concentration, and he was so beautiful and so open in that moment, that Kurt wanted to run onto that stage and pull him into his arms.

But then he began to sing, and Kurt was glued to his chair, because his voice, god,  _his voice_ . He had never heard him sing with this much emotion before.

_Most days I wake up with a pit in my chest  
There are thoughts that I can't put to rest  
There's a worry that I can't place_

_Most nights, I am restless and quiet won't come  
So I lay there and wait for the sun  
There's a trouble that won't show its face_

Was that how Blaine really felt in his everyday life? It hurt him to think he hadn’t noticed, or that he hadn’t done enough to be there for him, when Blaine had been there all along, his hand outstretched, ready to catch him whenever Kurt needed him to.

_You came out of nowhere and you cut through all the noise  
I make sense of the madness when I listen to your voice_

_Darling, only you can ease my mind  
Help me leave these lonely thoughts behind  
When they pull me under, and I can feel my sanity start to unwind  
Darling, only you can ease my mind_

Blaine opened his eyes then, head tilted a little to the side, until he could look at Kurt as he sang the next few lines, it was as if he was begging him to understand, and Kurt was really, really trying to, but it was so difficult when all he could feel was his own heart pounding so hard against his ribcage, he was surprised he wasn’t drowning the music with its uncontrolled beat.

_I'll admit, for a moment I felt so afraid  
Just to show you the mess that I made  
There are pieces I usually hide_

And god, Kurt  _knew_ . Kurt knew how Blaine hid behind his polite demeanor, always smiling even when he was hurting, but he had thought Blaine would never hide from  _him_ . They had been there for each other for so long now, Kurt couldn’t picture his life without him, couldn’t remember what it had been like before. And he didn’t want to know what it could be like after him. 

A little smile appeared on Blaine’s face then, so hopeful, so innocent, and all over again he knocked Kurt’s breath out.

_But when you collect me with your steady hand  
With a language that I understand  
I feel put back together inside_

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, nodding to himself. Yes, that’s what it felt like to be with Blaine. That’s how Kurt had felt each time he fell and Blaine helped him pick himself up. It was strange to think that a year ago they had barely even known each other, mere acquaintances that ran into each other at birthday parties or special occasions, and now Kurt sat here, in this dim bar, nursing a drink he had forgotten all about, and falling even more in love with this man that he thought was possible.

He had never imagined love could be like this.

_You came out of nowhere and you cut through all the noise  
I make sense of the madness when I listen to your voice_

_Oh Darling, only you can ease my mind  
Oh help me leave these lonely thoughts behind  
When they pull me under, and I can feel my sanity start to unwind  
Darling, only you can ease my mind  
Darling, only you can ease my mind  
Help me leave these lonely thoughts behind  
When they pull me under, and I can feel my sanity start to unwind  
Darling, only you can ease my mind_

The song ended softly, its last few lines a careful plea that was echoing inside of him, too: understand me, accept me, love me for who I am, with all these broken pieces and all the ones that barely make sense.

The bar erupted in enthusiastic applause, some people even screaming their appreciation, as Blaine closed his eyes, his fingers still pressed to the keys. Kurt could see him stealing himself, and he thought about how much bravery it had taken for Blaine to get on that stage and sing that song to him.

But Blaine had surely known how he felt, right? It had to be obvious. He had to have seen it in the way Kurt’s eyes followed him in the morning; in the way Kurt leaned into him whenever he could, seeking his comfort and warmth; in the way the world seemed perfectly calm when they were together…

And oh, Kurt realized. Hadn’t Blaine been doing the exact same thing as him? Was there a possibility it wasn’t out of guilt, and it wasn’t because of someone else that he looked so happy and bright? Was it possible that it was all because of him?

Blaine smiled into the microphone, all polite and proper again, his gaze scanning the audience that was still showing its appreciation. “Thank you,” he muttered quietly, and pushed away from the piano and onto his feet.

Kurt felt like a piece of marble – he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but continue to sit there and wait for someone to mold him into something else, to chip away all the parts that were useless, to bring some beauty to the surface. But he could feel his heart – it hadn’t stopped beating at a fast pace since the moment Blaine had said his name.

Blaine walked off the stage and waved through the crowd. Some tried to stop him, to show their appreciation for him, for his talent, but even though he usually stopped and chattered with everyone, even if it took him all night, this time he nodded, squeezed their shoulders in passing, smiled his thanks, and continued to move, like an invisible thread was pulling him towards his destination.

Finally, he stood at Kurt’s table, looking so shy and nervous that he barely recognized him.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, pointing at the chair next to Kurt’s, and it was obvious he was trying to be teasing and light, and failed spectacularly.

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt muttered, choking a bit. He grabbed his hand and pulled on it until Blaine finally sat next to him. “That was…”

Blaine bit his lip and tentatively reached up and wiped away the tears that Kurt hadn’t even noticed were trailing down his face. “Too much?”

Kurt shook his head, and didn’t really know what to say, so he pressed their still intertwined hands to his chest, hoping the pounding of his heart spoke for itself. “I… it was beautiful, Blaine. So beautiful. You know, I... I spent most of high school sitting through my friends singing songs to each other, to their significant others. I kept wishing someone would sing to me instead, but no one ever did.”

“Well, I have like ten more songs on the piano at home that have your name all over them,” Blaine replied, and then looked down at his lap, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I’m… I’m feeling a little awkward. I’ve been looking forward to this all week, but now that it’s over I’m just… nervous, I guess. Singing was sort of the easiest part, after all.”

Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine’s hand. “All week? How long have you been planning this?”

“Since Monday,” Blaine admitted, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I just hoped I wasn’t too late.”

Kurt blinked at him, feeling a little confused. “What do you mean, late?”

“I saw the number,” Blaine replied, as if that was supposed to explain everything. When he saw Kurt was still confused, he added: “The napkin. That the guy gave you with his number on it? It was on your nightstand. I assumed… I thought you had called him.”

“Oh!” Kurt exclaimed, suddenly remembering. “That? Oh, no. Not at all. It was still in my bag since the night of the accident. I dropped my bag and had to pick everything up, and I left it on my nightstand but I threw it away later that night, when I got home.”

“You did?” Blaine said, and now his face lit up like every light in the city was pointed at him, making him shine in the near darkness of the bar.

“Of course I did,” Kurt muttered. “He was really sweet, but I wasn’t interested. You’ve been thinking about that since Monday?”

“I’ve been thinking about this since before the accident,” Blaine replied, and Kurt’s heart stuttered in his chest. “That night… I really wanted to kiss you, but I was so afraid, and then I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Kurt said earnestly, and Blaine laughed bitterly.

“Kurt, you ended up in the hospital,” he insisted. “Because of _me_.”

“And I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m sitting right here with you.” He used his free hand to cup Blaine’s face, loving the way he seemed to melt into the touch. Kurt watched him. God, he was beautiful. Those eyes, and those full lips… he just wanted to lean in and kiss him, but he had the feeling that once they did that, there wasn’t going to be any talking involved, and there were some things they needed to say first. “I was afraid, too.”

Blaine blinked at him, his lips parting as if in surprise. “What were you afraid of?”

“Losing you,” Kurt admitted, and it was the hardest and yet the easiest thing he had ever done. “You’ve become one of my best friends, Blaine. We live together, and I love living with you. I love having you in my life, and I thought… I thought if I told you how I felt, you wouldn’t want to live with me anymore. That our friendship would be over.”

Blaine shook his head. “I was afraid of the same thing. You’re… Kurt, you’re probably the most important person in my life right now, and I don’t want to lose that.”

It was getting harder not to just kiss this boy senseless, Kurt thought.

“It’s just that I…” Blaine looked down at their tangled hands, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I’m really bad at this, Kurt. Eli was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a relationship, and we both know how that went. I don’t want to ever hurt you. I don’t want to be like my parents, like my _father_ …”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt whispered, pressing his forehead against Blaine’s, because he could see he was spiraling and didn’t know how to stop him. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re nothing like your father. You’re sweet and gentle, and so generous and beautiful. You care about other people, and you’ve taken care of me more times than I can count. I _know_ you would never hurt me.”

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” Blaine murmured, a little desperately. “I don’t want to waste any more time…”

“Then let’s not waste another second,” Kurt said, and captured his lips in a kiss.

Blaine gasped into it, clearly taken by surprise, but was very quick to catch up. With one of his hands still pressed to Kurt’s wildly beating heart, he used the other one to cup the back of Kurt’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was the kind of kiss Kurt had only ever dreamed about. It took his breath away and made his stomach swoop, and the real world melted away as he felt Blaine’s lips slide against his, soft and slow, sweet and firm. He moved his hand, which had been still pressed to Blaine’s cheek, towards his back, until he could wrap his arm around him and hold him, hold him, hold him.

He begged he never had to let this boy go.

They only pulled away when their lungs began to hurt from the lack of oxygen. Blaine pressed their foreheads together again, like he couldn’t stand to be parted with him.

“I’m crazy about you,” he whispered, and Kurt _ached_.

“That’s lucky, I guess,” Kurt said, and grinned so much he was sure he looked deranged, but he didn’t care. “Because I’m crazy about _you_.”

And then Blaine laughed, a light, almost startled sound, so musical that Kurt wanted to hum along with it. He looked so happy, so relieved, and in so much awe. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Kurt pulled away, only enough to drop a quick, fleeting kiss to his lips. Because he could.

“Let’s go home, okay?” He said.

They walked home hand in hand, and if they had to stop every few steps to share a kiss or two, well, they were just making up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine's song was Ease my Mind. It's gorgeous, isn't it?  
> I hope this was worth the wait! It was the scene I pictured before I even started writing the story, so I hope it didn't disappoint.  
> Only one chapter left! I will see you again on Saturday!  
> Love,  
> L.-


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday.   
> It's time for the last one. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. Please read the author's note at the end!  
> Lyrics for this chapter belong to Temporary Love :)  
> Enjoy!

_I feel the gravity in between us  
And you can, too, you can, too, you can, too_

* * *

Blaine Anderson's first real home was the apartment in New York City he had been living in for years but that hadn't felt like more than just a roof until Kurt Hummel had moved in with him.

So really, Blaine guessed that his real home wasn't a place, not really. Maybe that was why it had taken him so long to actually feel at home. Because he had been searching in all the wrong places. Until Kurt. And it turned that, as long as he had him by his side, he would be exactly where he belonged.

When he was with Kurt, he couldn't remember exactly why he had been so scared of being in a relationship before. There was no way he and Kurt would end up like his parents – they respected each other so much, and they were both committed into making the other as happy as they could. Blaine loved his mother and knew she had once felt like that about her husband, but Blaine couldn't fit his father into that idea, that he would ever put someone before himself, that he would roll up his sleeves and get to work on fixing whatever needed fixing in order to keep his partner happy.

When he was with Kurt, he couldn't see himself walking away from him. Never. It was the joy of his life, getting to their apartment each day and finding Kurt there already, or waking up each morning and knowing that the first person he would get to see was Kurt.

“You look like you're a million miles away,” Kurt commented, bringing Blaine back to reality.

They were sitting together on the couch, watching a movie. Blaine had checked out a while ago, contented with just feeling Kurt pressed to his side and running his fingers up and down Kurt's arm, feeling the softness of his skin. How could he watch a movie when what he had right in front of him was so, so enticing?

“Sorry,” Blaine said, dropping a kiss to the top of Kurt's head, because he could now. He could kiss him whenever and wherever he wanted. Sometimes he still couldn't believe his luck. “I was just distracted.”

Kurt reached for the remote and paused the movie, pulling away only enough to turn around and face him properly. “Is everything okay? What were you thinking about?”

Blaine grabbed his hand. He loved the subtle contrast of their skin tones, the fact that Kurt's fingers looked like they were meant to be used on a piano, the softness of his skin. “Everything's okay. Everything's more than okay. I was just thinking that I... well, I don't think I've ever been this happy before in my life.”

Kurt's sharp intake of breath made him look up, and he found that Kurt's lips were stretching into a gorgeous smile, and even though it was a pity to erase something so beautiful, Blaine began to lean in for a kiss...

“I love you,” Kurt blurted out then, his voice barely louder than a whisper, and Blaine stopped. His eyes met Kurt's, which were a little wide, like he couldn't believe what he had just said. “I... I know it's a little early to say so, but it's true, Blaine. I do. You don't have to say anything, though.”

“Kurt,” Blaine murmured, because he could tell Kurt was slowly freaking out, and that was the last thing he wanted. “Can you say that again?”

Kurt's eyes were sparkling, and they suddenly filled with hope. “I love you, Blaine,” he said again.

“I love you, too,” Blaine replied, without a second's hesitation.

It was the first time he ever said those words to someone other than a close (usually straight) friend, to someone who wasn't family.

Or that wasn't family, yet.

He surged forward, kissing Kurt intensely. Kurt let out a surprised little sound, but wrapped his arms around him instantly, pulling at him, bringing him in, welcoming him into his embrace. Blaine felt overwhelmed in all the right ways – overwhelmed by Kurt’s proximity, by his intoxicating scent, by the power of his kisses, by the way his whole body responded to Kurt’s touch as if it had been longing for it his whole life.

They had been together for just a handful of days, but the progression from friends to couple had been so easy, it marveled them. The intimacy they shared had grown exponentially – it hadn’t been unusual for them to touch, to hold each other before, but now there were kisses whenever they wanted them, and long, purposeful caresses that held promises for more. One particularly heated make out session had ended with both of them panting into each other’s mouths and pulling away before they came in their pants like a pair of inexperienced teenagers. Blaine had felt Kurt’s erection against his thigh, and since then he could hardly think of anything else – each night he dreamed of endless expanses of sweaty skin that he could map with his tongue, of all the little crevices of Kurt’s body he could lick and bite, of what he would taste like when he took him into his mouth. He dreamed of rutting against him, no barriers between them, until they both came in long, white streaks across each other’s body.

But he also dreamed of just holding Kurt, of being with him like this, together on the couch for a cozy night in. He dreamed of taking him out on dates, of travelling the world with Kurt by his side. He dreamed of a million memories, and a million days, and in all of them, the only thing that never changed was that it was Kurt’s hand he held through each and every one.

It was moments like these that Blaine wondered how he hadn’t seen what he had right in front of him sooner, how he hadn’t noticed before the way his heart seemed to respond to Kurt, as if ready to leap into his hands. And now, as Blaine kissed him and held him, he had no doubt in his mind that Kurt wasn’t going to drop it, that he would catch his heart and keep it safe. There was nothing to be scared of, not when they were together.

Blaine wondered if it was too soon to think of forever.

Kurt pulled away, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling almost violently. There was a pink blush on his cheeks, and his eyes were blown, and it took Blaine’s breath away to see him like this, on the edge of arousal.

“Do you think…” Kurt began to say, and paused to lick his lips, which was just _not fair_ , really. “Do you think we can move this to the bedroom?”

Blaine ghosted his fingers down Kurt’s side. “What about your ribs?”

Kurt groaned in frustration. “Blaine. The doctor gave me the all clear to start rehearsing again on Monday.”

“That’s still a couple of days away…” Blaine retorted and because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and started trailing light kisses across Kurt’s jaw.

Kurt whimpered, his hands falling onto Blaine’s shoulders, gripping tightly. “Unless you’re thinking about some kind of incredibly complicated sex, I think I can handle it,” he said, as he tilted his head to give Blaine better access. He sighed. “I just… I just want to be close to you. Touch you. If you want.”

“Of course I want to,” Blaine murmured, and he was so mesmerized by Kurt’s skin, he just wanted to kiss him forever. He loved the subtle roughness of his growing-stubble in contrast with the softness of the rest of him. “And I want to touch you, too. I want so many things with you, Kurt. I just don’t want to cause you any pain.”

“I promise to let you know if I need to slow down or stop, okay?” Kurt said, and he was tugging at Blaine’s clothes as if they offended him. “Please. I’m just… _god_ , I really want you.”

Blaine had been wanted before by plenty of guys. Just because he hadn’t had a serious relationship didn’t mean he hadn’t had casual flings, one night stands, friends with benefits kind of situations like with Eli. He had been wanted and he had wanted men back, had fucked and been fucked, had been horny and desperate and had watched men melt under him as well. But nothing could have prepared him for how he felt right this moment.

Blaine’s blood was boiling, boiling, boiling. He was not strong enough to resist Kurt, and he did not want to. He did not need to. Because he was Kurt’s, and Kurt was his, and they had something they both cherished, something that made them happy and complete.

They loved each other, and, sappy as it may sound (Santana would hit him if he could hear his thoughts), that was the biggest turn on for Blaine right now.

No one had loved him and wanted him at the same time.

“Your room or mine?” He asked, as he forced himself to stop kissing the column of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt let out a tiny little growl in the back of his throat that went straight to Blaine’s dick. “Yours is closer.”

Tugging on his hand, Kurt got him to stand up and follow him down the hallway to his bedroom. Once he was there, he turned around and once again wrapped his arms around Blaine, pulling him against his body and kissing him lazily, open-mouthed, the heat travelling between them slowly but steadily.

“What do you want?” Kurt asked him.

“That’s a very difficult question,” Blaine murmured, as his hands moved down Kurt’s back, stopping right on the edge of his pajama pants, fiddling with the elastic. “Because I want everything. I want to touch you. I want to blow you…” He really, really enjoyed the way Kurt whimpered against his lips. “I want to fuck you, and I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name, and I want everything in between.”

“My, my,” Kurt teased, but his voice sounded hoarse, affected. “Who knew you’d have such a filthy mouth?”

“What do _you_ want, Kurt?” Blaine asked in return.

“All of that and so much more,” Kurt replied, shifting closer to press his leg between legs, feeling Blaine hard and ready. “But we should start slow, see what feels right. We’ll have plenty of time to fuck each other, right?”

Blaine groaned and rocked against Kurt’s leg. “God, Kurt, you’re so hot.”

“Come on, on the bed,” Kurt said, impatience dripping from every word, and pulled on Blaine’s arm to follow him until they settled together on the mattress.

They took their time undressing each other, cherishing every new bit of skin that got revealed like it was the most precious thing they had ever seen. Soon Blaine found his dream coming true as he mapped every little crevice of Kurt's body with his tongue, enjoying the way Kurt writhed under him, letting out soft little moans. He couldn't believe he was allowed to do this, that it was wanted and encouraged, that Kurt responded so positively to every one of his touches. It seemed like magic to him.

He kissed down Kurt's side and over his ribs, where he had gotten hurt during the accident, and it sobered him a little. He sat down on his heels and looked at Kurt, spread in front of him shamelessly – and he had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, really, because he was so gorgeous every bit of Blaine _ached –_ and placed his hands on his thighs, pale but so strong from all the dancing he had done over the past few months, and covered in soft brown hair. His cock, long and thick, was curved up towards his stomach, so hard it had to hurt, and Blaine thought about having him inside of him, about feeling Kurt stretch him, push into him as far as he could, about two becoming one, and he could have come from that thought alone.

Instead, he leaned down and without any notice he opened his mouth and took him in, moaning at the weight and taste of him on his tongue, and Kurt gasped sharply, hips tilting off the bed and hands flying to Blaine's hair.

“God, Blaine...” he muttered brokenly. “That's... it feels so good.”

Blaine set up a perfect rhythm, bobbing his head up and down and growling deep in his throat every time Kurt tugged on his hair. He wanted to keep going, to make him come undone, to swallow around him, but Kurt finally tugged insistently enough that he had to pull away.

“I'm not gonna last,” Kurt said with a little, choked-out chuckle. “Come here.”

Blaine crawled up his body and they melted into a deep kiss, Kurt parting his legs so Blaine could fall between them, their erections aligning almost perfectly, as they began to rock together, slowly, slowly, almost agonizingly so, enjoying how the pleasure and the tension began to grow low in their bellies.

“Just like this?” Blaine asked, as he thrust forward, the head of his cock dragging perfectly against Kurt's length.

Kurt threw his head back, his long, perfect neck in display just for Blaine, who immediately attached his lips to it, sucking and biting the gorgeous skin.

“I don't know,” Kurt said, his voice so rough it was barely unrecognizable. “I think I'm sort of reconsidering...”

Blaine lifted his head, looked down at him with an arched eyebrow. “Are you?”

Kurt arched off the bed, one of his legs coming up to wrap around Blaine's waist, pulling him even closer. “Yeah. I think I'd like you to fuck me now, please.”

Blaine let out a long, raspy exhale and captured his mouth with his, their kiss a little on the dirty side, tongues sliding together with urgency. They had to force each other to still their hips, because the friction was so good it could all be over in a minute if they let themselves get lost in it.

Kisses and caresses were now mixed with slick fingers and breathy gasps as Blaine slid his hand between their bodies to stretch Kurt open. He kept his free hand on his hip, not wanting him to move too much and hurt himself, wanting to take care of him even though he wanted him so much he could barely think straight.

And the sounds Kurt made, so eager, so soft yet so desperate. Blaine looked into his eyes and could tell how much Kurt wanted him, could see his own desire reflected back in those gorgeous pools of blue. They could have this forever and the revelation had him in absolute awe – he could hardly wait, he wanted it all now, but he also wanted to take his time, enjoy every second next to Kurt. He wanted to push inside of him, but also wanted to know what it would feel to have Kurt in him. He wanted to feel him on his tongue, on his fingers, everywhere. He wanted to keep kissing him.

He wanted eternity, and all the touches, all the kisses, all the little moments and the big moments, everything eternity could hold for them.

And yet, not even eternity would be enough. It would be such a short time if he got to spend it with Kurt.

When the time finally came, everything slowed down, as if the universe was allowing them to stretch it out for a while longer. Kurt planted his feet on the bed, arching slightly upward to give him better access, and Blaine pushed inside, overwhelmed by the tightness, but even more by the belonging, by the feeling of right, right, right. Kurt cupped his face and brought him in for a gentle kiss, a deep contrast to those they had shared since they had fallen into bed together.

“I love you,” Blaine murmured as he stilled, buried deep inside of him, and god, he wanted to stay right there, but he also wanted to move. It was agonizingly wonderful.

“I love you too,” Kurt whispered, words mixed with tiny little gasps as he adjusted to the stretch, to the fullness. “Move a little, baby. Please.”

And so Blaine did. Slowly, they built a pace that worked for the both of them. They built something solid and perfect, steady and intense. Kurt met his every thrust as best he could, and they breathed against each other's mouths, the apartment completely silent except for their pants and moans echoing against the walls of Blaine's room – _their_ room, since that night, because how could they stand to sleep apart now?

When they finally came, it was together, each other's names rolling off their tongues, Kurt's hand in Blaine's messy hair, Blaine's fingers carefully brushing against his side, as if even in his climax he wanted to make sure he was safe, he was unhurt, he was protected.

They lied perfectly still for a long time afterwards, tangled together, chests moving in tandem as they tried to will their hearts to slow down, to go back to normal. Kurt brushed a swift kiss to Blaine's forehead, and Blaine buried his face in Kurt's neck to breathe him in, to breath in that sense of home, of belonging, of unbridled happiness that he had never felt before.

The sounds of New York City outside their window lulled them gently to sleep.

* * *

_When the world around is caving in  
And the winds, they keep on changing  
Take my hand and let it spin  
_ _We'll hold still_

* * *

Since they had gotten together, everything seemed too perfect to be true, and there were times when they sat there, worried that one day things would change, that some tension would snap in the wrong way and that they would be faced with the ugly truth that not even them, though they made perfect sense together in every single way, would have a fairy tale ending.

The opportunity presented itself a couple of months later, when Kurt's tech week happened at the same time as Blaine's finals.

They were so stressed out that they could barely stomach any food, could barely sleep each night more than a couple of hours. Blaine spent a lot of time at the library or sitting at the piano working on his pieces for his recital, while Kurt came home each night, barely managing to drag himself through the door to face plant onto the couch, his entire body aching worse than it had after the accident. He couldn't even feel his feet anymore.

They had no time for each other, and it would have been the perfect opportunity for them to turn on each other and let out some of the stress by picking up meaningless fights. But instead – and later on they would lean on this when they had doubts, when they were scared they were screwing things up – they found ways to be there for each other even when their own energy levels were running low.

One night, Blaine was at the library, cramming for one of his finals, books everywhere, his notes nothing but an unreadable scrawl, and his head was pounding with a headache. He had been running on coffee and two hours of sleep for what felt like weeks now, and he knew he was reaching his limit. But this was it. Just a few more weeks and he would graduate. It was the last effort. One last push.

He must have leaned his head on his forearm to rest his eyes for a moment, because he startled awake by a hand on his shoulder, straightening up so abruptly it made his neck hurt. He began to rub it to soothe it as he glanced up and found Kurt, still in his rehearsal clothes, gym bag on his shoulder, and a tired but sweet smile on his face.

“Come on, sleepy head,” he whispered, as not to disturb the dozens of frenzied students in pretty much the same state of tension as Blaine. “Let's go home.”

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asked as he rubbed his eyes.

Kurt helped him pack his stuff as he replied: “You weren't answering my texts, so I assumed I would find you here.”

Blaine mumbled a few words that made sense to absolutely no one, and allowed Kurt to pull him up and guide him out of the library. Kurt hailed a cab and Blaine sat on the backseat next to him, tucked to his side and practically drooling on his shoulder the entire drive home.

When they got home, Kurt immediately marched him down the hallway into their bedroom despite Blaine's protests that he needed to finish reading his notes, and Kurt gave him the most stern look he could muster when being exhausted himself.

“You, mister, are going to take a little nap,” Kurt said, kneeling on the floor to remove Blaine's shoes. “In the meantime, I'm going to make dinner and I'll wake you up when it's ready. After that, we're going to make out on the couch for a little while, and then you will be allowed to study for another hour before I absolutely drag you to bed to get some proper sleep. Is that clear?”

Blaine smiled sheepishly up at him and let Kurt push him down onto the bed. “You're very bossy and I like that.”

“Good, keep that in mind for our make out session later,” Kurt said with a little laugh, and after pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, he headed out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

Blaine had been asleep before he even made it down the hallway.

Later that same week, when all of Blaine's finals were over and it was just the recital he needed to worry about, Kurt arrived home and, as he often did lately, only made it as far as the couch before he completely collapsed.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Blaine said, as he stood up from his piano bench and walked over.

Kurt's face was buried in one of the cushions, but his words were still clear enough: “I'm dead.”

Blaine chuckled and scratched the back of his head, which he had learned helped relax Kurt immediately. “No, you're not. You're very much alive and still beautiful as ever. Just tired.”

“Nope. Dead,” Kurt insisted miserably.

Blaine dropped a kiss to the back of his shoulder and said: “Stay right there, I'll be right back.”

Kurt was still in pretty much the same position when Blaine returned a few minutes later. He had to help him up because his limbs simply did not work anymore and he felt like a ragdoll. He took him into the bathroom, where he had filled the bathtub and it smelled pleasantly of lavender. Kurt practically moaned in pleasure but couldn't seem to unglue himself from Blaine's side long enough to undress himself, so Blaine had to help him. And, not trusting him not to drown as soon as he was alone in the tub, Blaine took his own clothes off and slipped into the warm water behind him, pulling Kurt against his chest.

Kurt visibly relaxed and dropped his head on Blaine's shoulder. “This is wonderful,” he muttered.

Blaine kissed his temple. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it's just...” Kurt paused and groaned as he tried to get more comfortable. “ _Everything_ hurts.”

“I'm sorry, honey. But tech week is almost over, and then things will be a little less intense,” Blaine reminded him, as he moved one of his hands up to massage a knot on Kurt's back. The little moan that escaped out of his boyfriend's lips made Blaine's cock twitch, but he ignored it. “Are you happy, Kurt?” Kurt hummed, as if confused. “I mean... you've complained a lot about being tired this week, which is completely understandable because they're working you pretty hard, but... I want to know if you're happy. If you feel like all of this is worth it.”

Kurt shifted again, this time so he was almost lying on his side against Blaine's chest, and looked up at him. “Of course I'm happy. I love the show. I guess I forget about that sometimes, that I'm doing this because it's my dream, because I enjoy it, and that I'm so, so lucky to be able to live my dream.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Blaine's collarbone. “And I'm especially happy because I'm here with you. Because after I'm done at the theatre, no matter if I had a good or a bad day, I get to come home to you, and that? Well, that's what makes everything even more worth it, really.”

Blaine's fingers pressed under his chin until Kurt lifted his head enough for their lips to meet. The kiss was nothing but a brush of lips, smiles pressed together, but it was still perfect. “I love you very, very much.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt sighed in contentment, and they closed their eyes, the scent of lavender and the warm water helping them relax, and if their hands roamed a little bit, and their kisses became more insistent, well, that was part of being there for each other, too, of helping ease the load.

What mattered the most was that they would be okay, and that whatever life had in store for them, good or bad, they would face it together.

They couldn't see it going any other way.

* * *

_This is not a temporary love  
Now your heart is in my hands, I won't give it up  
This is not a temporary love_

* * *

The smile was so wide his face was starting to hurt. Kurt looked over his shoulder and waved at his castmates as they all went their separate way, tired but happy, feeling accomplished and proud.

He scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar bald head, and just as his eyes fell on his father, Rachel spotted him too, and started jumping up and down to get his attention from where she was standing, her arm wounded around Blaine's.

Soon he was enveloped in his family and friends, and there were pats on his back and enthusiastic congratulations uttered, as his father held on a little longer than the rest. When they pulled away, Kurt looked at his father and found his eyes filling with tears.

“I'm really proud of you, Kurt,” he said.

“Thanks, dad.” He squeezed his hand and then hugged Carole, before he turned to Rachel. “Thanks for coming, Rach. I'm glad you could get off work for this.”

“I wouldn't have missed it for the world,” she said, and she, too, had tears in her eyes. She showed him the pendant she was wearing. “I brought him. I thought he would have loved to see his brother shine on that stage tonight.”

Kurt's breath caught in his throat as he reached for her hand, his eyes trailed on her necklace, the silver letters curled to form Finn's name. He hadn't seen her wear it since their early days in New York. “Thank you for bringing him, Rach.”

They hugged, and Kurt could feel her shake in his arms, but when they pulled away she was smiling so brightly, and she was _so_ resilient, sometimes he stood there in absolute awe of her.

Carole wrapped her arm around Rachel's shoulder and pulled her to her side as Santana and Brittany took their turn hugging Kurt, and then Sam and Mercedes, and he loved seeing all the people he loved right here, happy for him. This was his family. The one who always, always had his back.

And then there was Blaine. Kurt turned to him and smiled. He reached up to readjust Blaine's bowtie and Blaine beamed at him, gaze bright and gorgeous, and full of love for him.

“You were amazing,” he whispered into Kurt's ear, as he pulled him into his arms. “So, so amazing.”

“You just liked seeing me in a tight cat suit,” Kurt teased, but his chest felt so full, like his heart was trying to explode with everything he was feeling tonight.

“Well, yeah,” Blaine said sheepishly, keeping his voice down. “I wouldn't object on your borrowing it to wear it at home some time, but...” He rolled his eyes and Kurt laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “I love you so much, Kurt. This is just the beginning for you. You're so talented...”

“I hate to interrupt this sappy love fest,” Santana said, looking like she didn't regret it at all. “But if we don't hurry, we're going to lose our dinner reservations.”

It was a messy affair – getting all nine of them in cabs and then on a long table at the restaurant. Burt ordered champagne for everyone, and there was more food than any of them could eat, but Kurt was so absurdly happy that he couldn't care about anything. He had all the people he loved around him, and Blaine's hand hadn't left his all night, and he had just performed on a Broadway stage. Life was amazing, sometimes. Mesmerizing. Unexpected.

They walked his parents to the hotel later, with promises to take them sightseeing the next day before Kurt's show – and Burt wanted tickets to go see him again and Kurt wondered if it was possible for his heart to burst from too much joy – and said goodbye to their friends, who each went home in separate cabs.

At last, it was just Blaine and him, standing hand in hand on a New York sidewalk. Kurt moved a little closer, until Blaine could tuck him into his side and kiss his temple.

“Ready to go home?” Blaine asked him, and Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, deep breath.

“So ready,” he whispered, and let his boyfriend lead the way. It was a beautiful night. There was no hurry. There was nowhere else he would rather be.

Kurt Hummel's fourth and last home was in Blaine Anderson's arms.

* * *

_I'll do what I can to make you see that  
This is not a temporary love_

* * *

The spotlight was bright on Blaine's face as he made his way across the stage. It was just him and a piano for his final performance as a grad student, and it felt so natural that he could notice his nerves slipping away, vanishing into nothingness.

The audience clapped politely, and as Blaine sat at the piano bench, he glanced around the large auditorium. Most of his professors were in the first row, but he looked past them. He found his mother and Cooper, who had flown in that morning, and Sam sitting next to Mercedes, bright smiles on their faces. Rachel, Santana and Brittany were in the row behind them, and apparently that long, sharp whistle came from Santana. Figures. He kept looking until he found the pair of blue eyes that were there like a lighthouse to guide him home.

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Blaine Anderson,” he said in a calm voice. This was it. A moment years in the making. He had practiced day and night, knew every melody and every lyric like the back of his hand, like his own name. They were part of him now, just like the man who sat there, watching him. “This... this is my love letter to Kurt.”

And he began to play.

* * *

_This is not a temporary love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's always incredible to me when one of these come to an end. It feels like they go by way too fast. I hope you enjoyed this journey, and that you fell in love with this version of Kurt and Blaine as much as I did. I truly loved writing STMI and I already miss them so, so much.  
> My stories would be absolutely nothing but a mess of wrong prepositions if it weren't for Christine, my amazing beta and friend. A round of applause for her, for putting up with me for so long and not hitting me over the head with a dictionary. She makes me better with every little (or big!) correction. I appreciate you so very much :)  
> This is, of course, not my last fic. I warned you that you would have to put up with me now! The next story is already in progress and it looks like it might be my longest one yet (it's currently at almost 60k words and nowhere near the halfway mark, oops!). There will be news on that soon on my twitter (theficwhisperer) and my tumblr (heartsmadeofbooks).  
> In the meantime, I'm going to use the next couple of weeks to keep writing and to upload my old stories to AO3, starting with Syrup and Honey, which a lot of people have requested. So be patient while I get all the chapters up, and please don't focus too much on the many, many errors my early fics had. I'm already sweating and stressing just thinking about revisiting them, haha.  
> Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and supported this fic. It means the world to me, and I mean that, honestly. A review can make the difference between a good and a bad day, and it encourages me to keep going, so I appreciate everyone who took the time to do it.  
> I will see you again very, very soon.  
> Love,  
> L.-


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